The World Watches Washington: How Russia, France and China View Today's America

At the end of April 2026, the United States simultaneously plays the role of a warring power, a space pioneer, a key link in the global economy and a source of political upheaval. Outside America this is perceived not as a familiar backdrop but as a concentrate of risks and opportunities. Russian, French and Chinese media and experts are discussing not one or two but several overlapping storylines at once: the war of the US and Israel against Iran and its consequences for global security; Washington’s aggressive trade‑tariff policy and the Supreme Court’s ruling on duties; a shift in the trajectory of US monetary policy and the struggle for control over the Federal Reserve; the US energy pivot and its growing role as an exporter; and the symbolic but very loud launch of a crewed lunar mission under the Artemis program. These topics converge through three very different lenses — Russian, French and Chinese — and their overlay reveals the real global agenda around the United States.

The first and most acute storyline is the ongoing US and Israeli war with Iran. For Russia this is primarily a question of the global balance of power and the sanctions architecture. In the news feed of Parliamentary Newspaper, Tehran’s reaction to possible US strikes on oil infrastructure is presented as another escalation: the Iranian side “promised a harsh response if the US strikes the country’s oil facilities.” Russian commentators place this in a broader context: each new US operation in the region, they argue, confirms the “inability of Washington to live without war” and simultaneously accelerates the formation of alternative formats — from deepening Iran‑Russia cooperation to intensified contacts within BRICS. The tone mixes schadenfreude and anxiety: on the one hand, the “boomerang of sanctions” against Russia, it is claimed, is returning to the US in the form of rising prices and inflationary pressure; on the other — any military clash around Iranian oil threatens a blow to the global market, and thus to the Russian economy, which is tied to raw‑material exports.(pnp.ru)

The Chinese conversation about the same conflict is almost entirely wrapped in the language of markets and macroeconomics. In reviews on platforms like Xueqiu and in morning roundups by Xinhua/Sina, the US and Israeli war with Iran appears alongside inflation and Fed rates as an “external shock.” A commentator using the pseudonym “资本三流分析” in his rundown of “ten hot foreign topics” describes US President Donald Trump’s announced temporary pause in hostilities at Pakistan’s request primarily through the prism of oil prices, the dollar and rate expectations: cessation of strikes lowers the risk premium in oil prices but increases uncertainty about how far the Fed can continue a dovish course.(xueqiu.com) For Chinese investors America here is not an “empire” or the “world’s policeman” but a source of volatility: any tweet or statement from Washington about Iran turns into a move in the S&P 500 and, through it, moves portfolios of retail traders in Shanghai and Shenzhen. In Chinese overviews there is almost no direct moralizing criticism of the US; instead, authors speak of a “rise in uncertainty in US monetary policy” and the need for “additional hedging” against American risks.

The French debate about the Middle East and the US is less emotional but far more politicized. There the war in Iran is viewed through the prism of Europe’s strategic autonomy. Economic bulletins from the Finance Ministry and analyses by major banks note that Washington’s military line further underlines the EU’s energy dependence on US decisions: after the transformation of America into a net hydrocarbon exporter, Washington has become one of the key beneficiaries of any new energy crisis provoked by war. One analytical review states that exporter status does not make the US immune to inflation but gives it leverage over allies, including European ones.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com) French officials speak in a dry technocratic language, but the subtext is clear: “American security” is increasingly seen in Paris as something provided at the expense of Europe’s vulnerability.

The second major theme is the US’s aggressive trade policy and the recent Supreme Court decision that found massive tariffs imposed by the Trump administration against a number of countries unlawful. That decision, which could result in roughly $1.6 trillion of duty refunds to major importers, became a key story in Chinese business media. Sina Finance recounts expectations of companies like Walmart, which in theory should receive part of these funds, but highlights skepticism: experts and the corporations themselves do not believe the money will quickly reach businesses because of administrative barriers and legal risks.(finance.sina.com.cn) In Chinese commentary this episode is read as proof of the unpredictability of American institutions: the White House promoted tariffs for years under slogans of “fair trade,” and then the Supreme Court reverses the policy, creating legal and financial uncertainty for partners.

In France the same topic is approached from a different angle. The research department of a major bank and economists at the Ministry of Economy treat Trump’s tariff war as a realized shock whose effects have largely been absorbed in prices and supply chains. In their models the tariffs are already built into higher inflation and compressed corporate margins; the question is how quickly the US can adjust course without undermining the remaining trust in multilateral rules. One recent review emphasizes that even with part of the tariffs removed, US federal debt will continue to rise and exceed 100% of GDP already in 2026, and uncertainty around the fate of USMCA and future packages with the EU and Japan remains high.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com) For the French elite America is simultaneously a key market and partner on which too much depends, and a player whose unilateral moves turn any long‑term calculation into a lottery.

The Russian discussion of US trade policy runs through the prism of sanctions and “economic warfare.” There is no open sympathy for American importers expecting duty refunds; rather, the Supreme Court’s decision is presented as yet another confirmation of “double standards”: when it concerns its own business, Washington is willing to revise even flagship measures, but when sanctions hit Russian or Iranian interests, they are presented as an unassailable moral norm. Russian analytical outlets link Trump’s tariff maneuvers to his forthcoming fight to keep a majority in the House of Representatives in November 2026 and the expected reallocation of resources toward the industrial “Rust Belt” — the Republicans’ traditional base.(zh.wikipedia.org) Here the US is not an abstract power but an electoral machine using world trade as an instrument of domestic politics.

The third crosscutting thread is US monetary policy and the battle for the future of the Federal Reserve. In the Chinese space this is one of the main topics. In numerous reviews — from detailed analyses on financial platforms to popular video analysts — the falling likelihood of a Fed rate hike in 2026 is discussed against the backdrop of inflationary spikes caused by tariffs and war. Chinese commentators stress that despite sharp swings in expectations after the start of the war with Iran, the baseline scenario of major banks, such as Goldman Sachs, still assumes a low probability of tightening this year.(blockweeks.com) Attention is also focused on the career of Kevin Warsh, nominated by Trump to head the Fed: Chinese roundups relay his congressional promises to preserve independence from presidential pressure and not to yield to public calls to cut rates.(finance.sina.com.cn) But the subtext is clear: Beijing sees the politicization of the Fed as an additional signal that the “dollar anchor” is becoming less reliable, and this is an argument for accelerating de‑dollarization in regional settlements.

French economists, by contrast, view the Fed more as a relatively predictable institution, while noting a “return of political risk” into its workings. In the latest study by a major bank it is emphasized that for Europe the key question is not so much the level of the rate as the extent to which US monetary policy remains focused on its domestic mandate rather than becoming a tool of short‑term political interests of the administration. European analysts also acknowledge that however political shifts change, the dollar and the US debt market remain the unrivaled benchmarks for global investors — and this pushes the EU toward a difficult balance between criticizing Washington and depending on it.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com)

In Russia the Fed theme is presented differently. The emphasis there is on how changes in rates and Federal Reserve rhetoric affect commodity prices, exchange rates and the ability to work around sanctions. In expert columns one can find the formula that “every Fed rate move is a vote for or against American hegemony,” and discussion of the candidate for the new chair is interpreted through a conspiratorial prism of a struggle between “Wall Street” and the “deep state.” In practice Russian economists closely monitor spreads between US Treasury yields and alternative instruments, but in public rhetoric the Fed becomes almost a political symbol comparable in significance to the Pentagon or the State Department.

The fourth, less conflictual but symbolically important storyline is NASA’s launch of a crewed mission to the Moon under the Artemis program on April 1, 2026. In Russia this event provokes an ambivalent reaction. On the one hand, Russian outlets acknowledge: the US for the first time since 1972 sent a crewed spacecraft to the Moon, and this is a serious technological and image success.(ru.wikipedia.org) On the other hand, comments contain reproaches toward Russian leadership for the “lost space” and arguments that the American lunar project pursues not only scientific but also military goals: the militarization of cislunar space, control over resources and a demonstration of political will to allies and rivals.

Chinese reactions to Artemis are even more complex. On the one hand, state media emphasize that US success confirms the trend of “returning space to the center of geopolitical rivalry” and simultaneously serves as a stimulus to accelerate China’s own lunar program. On the other — in more businesslike and expert publications the American leap is linked to economics: the SLS launch and crewed mission are seen as a signal of Washington’s long‑term bets on a high‑technology industrial complex meant to offset blows to traditional sectors from tariff wars and production relocation. In this logic the crewed flight to the Moon is not only a flag in the regolith but a large Keynesian contract for the aerospace industry, feeding supply chains from rare earth metals to software.

In France interest in Artemis is tinged with a European complex of “missed opportunity.” French and pan‑European commentators remind readers that Europe once dreamed of its own crewed program, but now must choose between close cooperation with NASA and attempting to build an autonomous path practically from scratch. Some columns note that the US lunar project complements the economic agenda of a “new industrial policy” aimed at creating jobs in high‑tech sectors within the country — from defense to green energy. In this sense Paris looks at Washington and sees not only the militarization of space but also an example for its own, far less advanced, industrialization.

Finally, there are quieter but extremely important themes running like a common thread through all three discourses. The first is the chronic growth of US public debt and the question of its sustainability. French analysts cautiously warn that by 2026 debt will exceed 100% of GDP, but immediately reassure: as long as the dollar remains the world’s reserve currency and the American market remains the deepest and most liquid, there is no talk of an immediate crisis.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com) Chinese authors are harsher: for them rising debt is another argument for accelerating diversification of reserves and developing their own payment infrastructures. Russian commentators use this figure as a rhetorical club to demonstrate the “impending collapse of the American model” — even though many of them well understand that real erosion of dollar hegemony is still far off.

The second crosscutting theme is the gap between perceptions of the American economy inside the country and outside it. Chinese financial portals emphasize the “resilience of US fundamentals,” still high employment and strong profitability of some corporations, which makes the American market “uncomfortably attractive” even for those politically opposed to Washington.(meigu.news) French economists, while not hiding annoyance about tariffs and unilateral moves, are forced to admit that the US is pulling the global economy out of stagnation. Russian media, on the other hand, focus on the negatives — inflation, social stratification, political polarization — but even in this context cannot ignore the fact that the dollar still dominates and US markets remain the “main arena of the game.”

Putting these pieces together yields a complex but fairly coherent picture of how the world sees today’s United States. In Russia America appears as a contradictory giant enemy: a militarist power waging wars in Iran and Ukraine through support for Kyiv, while at the same time a technological and financial center whose decisions cannot be shrugged off. In France the US is an inconvenient but indispensable partner whose actions constantly force Paris and Brussels to choose between strategic autonomy and economic pragmatism. In China the US is above all a variable in the growth equation: a source of risks, opportunities and price shocks, treated coolly and instrumentally, translating almost every political move from Washington into the language of interest rates, indexes and exchange rates.

The common thread across all three discourses is the realization that the “American century” has not disappeared but has simply become much more conflictual and unpredictable. The US still sends people to the Moon, moves global markets with a single court decision, and shapes the contours of global security with its wars and its pauses for peace. But now each projection of that power is accompanied by questions and doubts: where does the defense of national interests end and the undermining of allies begin; how politicized are institutions that used to be considered neutral; and how long will the rest of the world tolerate the fate of its economies being so tightly tied to a changeable American course. Answers to these questions in Moscow, Paris and Beijing differ, but they coincide in one respect: the era of unconditional trust in the US is gone for good, and today every new step by Washington is viewed through the prism of one’s own sovereignty and vulnerability.

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Washington in the Crosshairs: Australia, Brazil and South Africa Push Back

At the end of April 2026, the United States again found itself at the center of foreign-policy nerves on multiple continents. For Australia, the main question is how far it is willing to go following Washington into a war with Iran and into military pressure on the Middle East. For Brazil, the question is where the red line lies in relations with the Donald Trump administration when it comes to intervention in its internal political battles. For South Africa, the issue is how to defend its right to an independent course on Palestine, BRICS and trade without losing vital access to the U.S. market and American health funding.

At first glance these are three unconnected stories. Together they show how countries of the global South and middle-weight U.S. allies are simultaneously trying to constrain American influence — not by severing ties, but by openly contesting Washington’s right to set the rules.

Around Australia the debate is not about whether it is “for” or “against” America, but whether the country should, out of habit, join another “American war.” The government’s decision to support U.S. and Israeli actions against Iran in spring 2026 by sending a contingent and providing logistical support has sparked a heated political dispute. In the English-language Australian press and in opposition statements this looks like Canberra’s classic dilemma: allied solidarity versus strategic autonomy.

The Greens have been particularly outspoken. Their leader Larissa Waters said that Australia’s participation in the Iran campaign effectively turns the country into a participant in “yet another endless U.S.-led war,” drawing a direct parallel with Iraq and Afghanistan — a view detailed in the English Wikipedia article on Australia’s involvement in the 2026 war with Iran, which compiles key political reactions in Canberra (“Australia and the 2026 Iran war”). In the same discourse, Labor and independent commentators emphasize that the U.S. under Trump is acting increasingly unilaterally, and that Australia, by joining such a war, assumes risks over which it has no real control.

Economists and market analysts in Australia view America through a different prism — as the nervous center of the global economy on which their own markets depend. Westpac and IG Australia reviews stress that investor attention in the region in the coming week will be fully fixed on the FOMC decision, PCE inflation figures and other key U.S. releases, as well as on any escalation between the U.S. and Iran, since this combination determines global market sentiment and the dynamics of the Australian dollar and stock indexes, as Westpac notes in its weekly review “Australia and NZ Weekly 27 April 2026” and broker IG in its analysis “Week Ahead: 27 April 2026” (westpaciq.com.au).

This creates a dual Australian perspective: on one hand, capital markets and part of the political class still see America as an indispensable anchor of the world economy and a key military partner. On the other hand, criticism of involvement in “American wars” is growing, especially when they are perceived as initiatives of Trump’s personal style rather than an inevitable collective Western response. For those who read only the American press, it may be surprising how often the argument that Canberra must “finally learn to say no to Washington” appears in Australian debates, and how commonplace is the view that U.S. and Australian interests do not always coincide.

In Brazil the dispute with the U.S. is more personalized and emotional. Here the U.S. is not only a military ally or economic giant but also an arbiter in a bitter domestic conflict between Bolsonaristas and the current leftist government. The latest escalation was the expulsion from the U.S. of a Brazilian police liaison who had worked in Florida with the immigration agency ICE, accused of using American territory as a platform for a “political witch hunt” against a prominent Bolsonarista hiding in the U.S. Washington’s decision was a blow to cooperation between law-enforcement agencies and is perceived in Brazil as U.S. interference in its internal fight with the far right.

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who until recently maintained a pragmatic dialogue with Trump, has sharpened his rhetoric in April interviews and speeches. In a conversation with Spain’s El País he said bluntly that “Trump has no right to wake up in the morning and threaten any country,” linking the U.S. president’s personal style to a broader weakening of international law and multipolarity, as El País reports in “Lula sopesa aplicar ‘la reciprocidad’ a Estados Unidos” (elpais.com). In the same logic Lula has declared that Brazil will act on the principle of reciprocity and “respond in kind” if Washington abuses its powers regarding the Brazilian police officer.

The threat of reciprocity has already materialized: Brazil’s Federal Police withdrew accreditation from a U.S. law-enforcement officer stationed in Brasília as part of joint programs. As El País notes in a separate item “Brasil aplica la reciprocidad y retira las credenciales a un policía de Estados Unidos destinado en Brasilia,” Federal Police chief Andrei Rodrigues stresses that he does this “with great regret” but emphasizes the need to protect Brazil’s sovereignty (elpais.com). Commentators in the Brazilian press see this episode not only as a diplomatic incident but as an internal signal: ahead of the October 2026 elections, Lula is trying to show voters he will not allow either the U.S. or the Bolsonarista diaspora in Texas to dictate the agenda of Brazilian justice.

The triangle “Washington — the Pope — Brazil” adds an extra layer. The long-running diplomatic conflict between the Trump administration and the Vatican, which began after stark papal criticism of the U.S. war on Iran and of U.S. policy on Venezuela, is discussed in Portuguese-language analyses as part of a broader ideological line from the White House. According to a review of a Portuguese-language article on the conflict between the United States and the Holy See on Portuguese Wikipedia, U.S. Deputy Defense Secretary for Policy Elbridge Colby even summoned nuncio Pierre for an unprecedented “lecture” at the Pentagon, and the Pope publicly condemned the Iran war as morally unacceptable (pt.wikipedia.org). In this context Lula’s statement supporting the Pope, addressed to the Conference of Brazilian Bishops, becomes not only an intra-church gesture but also part of criticism of American “neo‑Monroeism.” Brazilian political scientists writing on the Monroe Doctrine in the Journal of Democracy em Português remind readers that Trump’s interpretation of the U.S. mission in the Western Hemisphere as a right to dominate “dependent” states clashes with left and part of the centrist Latin American elite’s view of sovereign equality among nations (fundacaofhc.org.br).

Against this backdrop it is not surprising that far‑reaching warnings are coming from other Latin American leaders. Colombian President Gustavo Petro told El País that if the U.S. does not rethink its line toward Latin America — from sanctions and migration to interference in elections — “there will be a revolt,” and he emphasized that the region is increasingly looking to alternative centers of power (elpais.com). Those words are being widely cited in Brazilian and Spanish-language media as an expression of broader fatigue with American paternalism.

South Africa views the U.S. primarily through cold‑pragmatic calculations: trade, sanctions risk, status in the global architecture and the consequences of U.S. domestic politics for the African continent. Observers describe Pretoria–Washington relations in April 2026 as the worst since 1994. An opinion column in Independent Online, “Perceptions of South Africa’s Foreign Policy in Turmoil,” states that the Trump administration sees South Africa as a “problem partner” sympathetic to “U.S. adversaries” — Russia, China and Iran — and that Washington has already called into question trade preferences under AGOA and South Africa’s role in the G20 (iol.co.za).

At the same time, initiatives periodically surface in the U.S. Congress to revisit relations with South Africa, accusing it of “betrayal” and of forging ties with “terrorist organizations.” As far back as April 2025 two U.S. congressmen introduced a bill to review bilateral relations, claiming that South Africa had “brazenly abandoned relations with the U.S. in favor of alignment with China, Russia, Iran and terrorist organizations,” as the South African portal Polity.org.za quotes (polity.org.za). Over the past year that accusation has hardened amid Pretoria’s stance on Palestine, its active role in BRICS and contacts with Tehran.

From the South African side the picture looks different: the U.S. is perceived as a partner that too readily resorts to pressure tools — from threats to review AGOA to political campaigns about “genocide of white farmers.” BusinessTech’s analysis emphasizes that although Trump extended AGOA’s operation to the end of 2026 in February, rumors of possible tariffs and restrictions create the risk of “another disaster” for South Africa, since billions of rand in export revenue could be at stake if another review by the U.S. Trade Representative ends in tough measures (businesstech.co.za). For South African commentators this confirms that Washington is prepared to use economic levers for political pressure.

Especially painful is the rollback of American health funding. The Trump administration’s cancellation of most of the PEPFAR program in February 2025 and the subsequent winding down of USAID deprived South Africa of roughly 17% of its HIV-fighting budget, as well as of the infrastructure on which prevention and treatment systems were built. In a Mail & Guardian column about the upcoming rollout of injectable HIV prevention, authors stress that the most vulnerable patients risk losing access to innovative therapy precisely because the system previously funded by PEPFAR, USAID and the CDC has been hollowed out by cuts (mg.co.za). In South African discourse this reinforces the image of the U.S. as a country whose domestic political struggles can instantly erase years of health-support efforts in Africa.

The same link — “U.S. foreign policy — vulnerability of peripheral countries” — appears in discussions about Washington’s broader global role. A budget office briefing from the South African parliament on the global and South African economic outlook emphasizes that the style of the current American government has increased distrust of digital platforms and globalized capitalism: data accumulation, manipulation of political preferences and trade wars have become part of how African societies perceive America (parliament.gov.za). In South African debates this is taken as an argument for greater strategic autonomy and a pivot to the Global South, even if that risks further deterioration in relations with Washington.

If these disparate threads are brought together, several common motifs emerge that often remain peripheral in U.S. discussion. The first is fatigue with Trump’s “personal foreign policy.” In Brazil this appears through the personalization of conflicts with Lula and Bolsonaristas, where Washington’s decisions are read as part of an ideological battle rather than institutional policy. In Australia it appears in condemnation of “another U.S. war” as the choice of a president rather than an inevitability. In South Africa it manifests as the sense that a single shift in Washington’s political line can wreck long-standing trade and HIV-fighting agreements.

The second motif is sovereignty and unilateralism. Left and centrist elites in Brazil and South Africa, and a significant portion of the Australian political spectrum, emphasize that cooperation with the U.S. is possible and necessary, but on an equal basis. In Brazil that means the right to prosecute its politicians without external interference and resisting any use of U.S. territory as a refuge for fugitive figures. In South Africa it means the right to determine its position on Palestine and relations with Russia and China without threats to trade preferences. In Australia it means the right to say “no” to participation in military campaigns that do not directly affect national security.

The third motif is the search for alternatives. In articles on African foreign policy or Latin American democracy, the U.S. increasingly appears not as the “unequivocal leader of the free world” but as one pole alongside the EU, China, regional blocs and even the moral authority of the Pope. When South African authors discuss BRICS and Iran, and Brazilians discuss the Monroe Doctrine and the Pope’s criticism of Trump, they are slotting America into a multipolar landscape where partners can be chosen and contradictions exploited.

The paradox is that none of Australia, Brazil or South Africa seeks a rupture with the U.S. Australian economists still watch every Fed move and the dynamics of American indices; Brazil’s finance ministry travels to Washington for IMF meetings to discuss the impact of the Middle East war on fuel prices, as a report on the radio program “A Voz do Brasil” recounts regarding Minister Dario Durigana’s visit to the U.S. (reddit.com); South Africa anxiously but persistently seeks to extend trade arrangements and preserve export niches.

But the general background of these ties is changing. America remains necessary, but it is becoming less liked and more contested. For Washington this means the old formula of “default allies plus compliant peripheral partners” no longer works. For Australia, Brazil and South Africa, the art of balancing cooperation with resistance to the U.S. is becoming a central skill of their foreign policies. And the longer the Iran war, the Venezuelan crisis and the hard bilateral trade-and-human-rights disputes continue, the louder the simple question grows in Sydney, Brasília and Pretoria: isn’t it time to treat America as an equal, not an imperial center?

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How the World Sees Washington Today: Economic War, Iran, and Erosion

The outside world now discusses the US primarily not as an abstract “superpower,” but as a source of very concrete risks: from a shock on the oil market to the politicization of the dollar and the fragility of American institutions themselves. Turkish, German and Chinese media focus on different aspects, but the themes noticeably overlap: Washington’s “economic weapon,” the crisis around Iran and the Strait of Hormuz, political pressure on the Fed and the courts, and domestic socio‑economic tensions within the United States.

Perhaps the sharpest international conversation revolves around the US operation against Iran and oil sanctions. Chinese official and semi‑official media directly call the new wave of sanctions and threats against buyers of Iranian oil an “economic bombing raid.” In an analytical column on China News’ site a special term is even introduced — the “Economic Fury” operation — to describe Washington’s course: anyone who continues to buy Iranian oil or service its flows will be hit by the US Treasury and its “secondary sanctions.” The author compares this to an extension of a military blockade to the financial and logistics system: from intercepting tankers to striking banks and shipping companies that support Tehran’s exports, and emphasizes that warning letters have already been sent to the Emirates and Oman, while more than two dozen companies, individuals and vessels connected to Iranian oil have been sanctioned. Beijing’s interpretation is unequivocal: the US is using dollar dominance and control over settlement infrastructure as an “extra‑territorial weapon,” forcing third countries to comply with American foreign policy under threat of financial isolation and undermining trust in the dollar as a global public good. In this logic Washington acts not merely as a participant in the Middle East conflict but as a “掠夺性霸权” — predatory hegemony that does not balk at economic blows to allies in order to pressure adversaries, as explicitly stated in a China.com.cn column criticizing “Economic Fury” as yet another example of US sanctional hypertrophy. The author also recalls a broader picture: from the long embargo on Cuba to a series of banking and energy sanctions against other states, painting America as, by definition, a “sanctions power.”

From the Turkish perspective the Iran story is colored differently: it’s a question of the balance of power in a “global war” and of the vulnerability of the US and its allies themselves. Conservative Turkish media analyze in detail how Washington and Tel Aviv find themselves “pinched” around the Strait of Hormuz, where Iran, relying on asymmetric tools, can make any attempt at coercion very costly. In a piece on A Haber the actions of the great powers around Iran are described as “giants’ chess,” and international security expert Yaldyn Deniz stresses that Washington traditionally seeks “legitimacy” before each military operation — resolutions, coalitions, humanitarian pretexts — but this time, in his view, “the picture is different”: international support is fragmentary, regional allies are cautious, and the US is increasingly accused of pushing the region toward escalation under the cover of talk about “freedom of navigation.” Deniz notes that for Ankara and other regional players the crisis around Hormuz is not only a risk of oil price spikes but also a test of the real ability of the US to control key maritime chokepoints at a time when its global leadership is being contested. Turkish analysis draws attention to nervousness in Washington: behind the scenes of military decisions, American press reports discuss both the president’s psychological state and the lack of a clear long‑term Iran strategy, which in Ankara is interpreted as a symptom of a deeper crisis of governability in the US. (ahaber.com.tr)

The common thread clearly read in both Turkey and China is the fear of US economic and financial power becoming a systemic weapon that undermines the very basis of global interdependence. In the Turkish context this is expressed through the question of oil and energy markets: if Washington threatens sanctions against countries that simply meet their energy needs via Iran, what are states whose economies critically depend on imports supposed to do? In the Chinese discourse the story enlarges into a critique of the entire US sanctions policy, where the Iran case is only the latest iteration. Chinese analysts link the current “economic fury” to accumulated experience with Cuba, Russia, North Korea and other countries hit by American restrictions, and they cite Western experts who point to the limited effectiveness and serious humanitarian consequences of such tactics. Against this backdrop the argument gains strength that the more the US uses the dollar as a cudgel, the more it motivates the world toward dedollarization and the search for alternative payment mechanisms.

The second major crosscutting theme is the internal condition of the American economy and its political “superstructure.” Chinese media use recent US stories to illustrate growing socio‑economic inequality and the politicization of economic policy. In a recent China News piece the picture of a so‑called “K‑shaped” recovery is sketched: wealthy households and Wall Street form the upper branch of the graph, benefiting from rising asset values; the broad middle and lower classes form the lower branch, whose real incomes lag behind inflation. Data from a metropolitan food bank are cited: about a third of families in the Washington area faced food shortages last year. The organization’s director, Lada Mutia, notes that even families with formally high incomes — $90–120,000 a year, previously considered a stable middle class — increasingly seek help. She explains this by persistently high post‑pandemic inflation and wage growth lagging behind the rising cost of living: rent, groceries and services pull household budgets down. The piece also features voices of ordinary Americans: a suburban Washington resident recounts how a household with two working adults still “can’t make ends meet,” has to cut expenses and rely on food aid, while the government reduces federal funding for social programs. The Chinese author draws the conclusion that behind the facade of “sustained GDP growth” there is an exacerbation of social fissures that become a factor in political polarization and distrust of institutions. (hn.chinanews.com.cn)

Chinese observers believe this social tension is worsened by the way politics increasingly aggressively interferes with independent economic institutions, above all the Federal Reserve. An analytical piece on Chinanews.com.cn examines in detail the high‑profile conflict between the White House and the Fed: Chair Jerome Powell, who faces a criminal investigation regarding Fed building renovation expenses and alleged false testimony to Congress, sees these accusations as merely a “pretext” and believes the real reason for the pressure is the Fed’s refusal to tailor monetary policy to the president’s wishes. The author describes this as a new phase in a long struggle between Washington and Wall Street for control of the Fed, where the key question is whether the central bank will preserve its independence in setting interest rates or become an instrument of the current administration. The article discusses candidates for Fed chair at length, naming former presidential economic adviser Kevin Hassett as a favorite — a man whose close political ties to the White House alarm parts of the financial community. Researcher Liu Yin from the Financial Research Institute at the People’s University of China comments that choosing an overtly politically loyal Fed head could undermine confidence in the predictability of US monetary policy, trigger capital flow turbulence and increase global market instability. In this context China sees the American economy not only as a source of global demand but also as a potential source of shock if the conflict between populist politics and independent institutions gets out of control. (chinanews.com.cn)

The third layer of international discussion concerns the erosion of American political‑legal institutions and what many outside the US perceive as a crisis of “American democracy.” Chinese commentators actively use recent episodes — from record federal government shutdowns to attacks on the judiciary — as illustrations of systemic problems. An analysis on the Guancha portal dissects a sharp speech by Chief Justice John Roberts, who publicly criticized officials threatening judicial independence and, according to American and British media, was primarily referring to President‑elect Donald Trump and Vice President J. D. Vance. The Chinese author cites Western analysts pointing to a paradox: initial dissatisfaction with the Supreme Court came mainly from Republicans angry about cases against Trump, but after the court adopted decisions expanding presidential immunity, Democrats sharply lost trust in the institution. As a result, the article emphasizes, the Supreme Court — which in the American political system should embody stability and arbitration — itself became the object of mass distrust and political attacks, creating risks for the long‑term legitimacy of the entire constitutional framework. (guancha.cn)

This theme of the breakdown of the “model democracy” also appears in more ideologically charged Chinese texts, where the crisis of American institutions is linked to the practice of external coercion. On the Chinese MFA’s site and related resources there are detailed accounts of how the US, in the authors’ view, simultaneously proclaims itself a defender of democratic values and systematically violates international law through unilateral sanctions and military interventions. Arguments cited include, among other things, the January 6, 2021, Capitol riot, the long embargo against Cuba and the practice of “extra‑territorial” laws like the Helms‑Burton Act, which allow punishment of foreign companies for not complying with American policy. The article also quotes Professor Daniel Drezner’s piece in Foreign Policy, which calls the US a “republic of sanctions” — a country that elevates sanctions to a universal foreign policy tool, often ignoring their real impact on humanitarian situations. In the Chinese reading all this forms a narrative that the United States is losing moral authority both at home and abroad, and the conflicts now under discussion around Iran, the Fed and the Supreme Court are merely symptoms of a deeper “system fatigue.” (gh.china-embassy.gov.cn)

The German media field’s view of the US is less emotional than the Turkish or Chinese ones, but similar motifs are clearly present. German quality newspapers and public broadcasters continue to register an ambivalent attitude toward America: on the one hand, as an indispensable NATO and economic partner; on the other, as a source of instability through trade frictions, sanction policy and internal political distortions. In the context of the Iran crisis and the “Economic Fury” operation German analysts are most concerned about effects on the energy market and the global economy: new oil price spikes, a hit to Eurozone industry, and increased pressure on companies operating in the Middle East. At the same time Germany, committed to a multilateral approach, traditionally looks critically at unilateral US “secondary sanctions” that de facto impose American foreign policy on European businesses. Against this backdrop the German discussion on Europe’s strategic autonomy intensifies: how long can the EU allow itself to depend on decisions made in Washington if those decisions lead to direct economic losses for European countries?

Bringing together these different perspectives — the Turkish regional‑security, the Chinese system‑critical and the German pragmatic‑economic — one can see a common outline: the world is finding it harder to perceive the US as a predictable “guardian of order.” In many national debates Washington is turning into a complex phenomenon: partner, competitor, source of risks, and often an example of domestic problems comparable in scale to those it has long pointed to in others. The “Economic Fury” operation against Iran, the struggle for control of the Fed, growing social inequality and the politicization of the Supreme Court are not disparate news items but symptoms that American power increasingly relies on tools that provoke irritation and anxiety even in allied capitals.

That is why in Turkey, Germany and China the discussion now is less about whether America will be great again and more about the cost to others of how it seeks to keep its place in the world, and whether the international community has the resources and the will to offset the consequences of this policy — through regional initiatives, alternative payment systems, or simply a more sober, pragmatic distance from Washington.

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World Through Washington's Lens: Turkey, Germany and Australia Debate New American Power

Against the backdrop of a protracted war with Iran, an intensified confrontation around the Strait of Hormuz and a series of impulsive moves by the Donald Trump administration, the United States has again found itself at the center of global disputes. But viewed not from Washington, but from Ankara, Berlin or Canberra, the picture looks far more troubling and contradictory. In Turkey there is debate over whether the current hard U.S. line will be a reason to reboot bilateral relations or, conversely, will cement a strategic distance. In Germany, American policy is seen as a mix of chaotic coercion and economic selfishness that undermines the previous architecture of world trade. In Australia, public and expert debate is torn between the instinct to lean on the U.S. alliance and a growing fear of being dragged into someone else’s war without the navy or domestic consensus to do so.

The common thread of all these discussions is three big themes. First, the U.S. and allied war with Iran and the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, perceived as a test of the responsibility and predictability of American leadership. Second, Trump’s new trade-and-economics line—from the “Liberation Day” tariff increases to the courts’ annulment of parts of his duties—and how this is felt in export-oriented Germany and in the Turkish private sector, which depends on dollar liquidity. And finally, the evolution of U.S. military alliances—from AUKUS to pressure on allies to contribute more—which is felt particularly acutely in Australia, where the new defense strategy is clearly written through Washington’s prism, yet America itself, according to some experts, is becoming a less reliable partner. (en.wikipedia.org)

Around Iran and the Strait of Hormuz the picture is almost grotesquely heterogeneous. The Turkish press, even the segment oriented toward financial investors, closely monitors every Washington statement: analytical bulletins from Turkish brokerage houses recount in detail news that the U.S. and Iran are negotiating via Pakistan, and record how Trump’s remarks that “bombings” might be “a more effective position” if talks fail are immediately reflected in oil prices and the dollar exchange rate. In one such roundup, Turkish analysts noted how reports of progress in talks in Pakistan and intentions to extend a ceasefire improved market sentiment, while subsequent Trump comments about possibly not extending the truce increased nervousness again—something Turkey feels directly through oil imports and inflationary pressure. (gedik.com) It is through this prism of risk assessment and the dollar cost of borrowing that Turkey’s business audience discusses American strategy: not as an abstract “fight for democracy,” but as a source of price spikes and the threat of a new wave of sanctions.

At the political level in Ankara, very different notes are sounding. Last week Turkish leadership, via friendly media, actively circulated leaks that the U.S. is ready to compromise in the long-running dispute over Russian S-400 systems and Turkey’s exclusion from the F-35 program. A compilation of international commentary prepared by the ruling party’s think tank cites a Reuters piece in which Turkish officials warn that if the U.S. “withdraws” its commitments from the European security system, the consequences could be “devastating” for the continent, while the same document records the U.S. ambassador to Ankara speaking of a “near resolution” of the sanctions issue over the S-400—framed in the paper as a possible turn toward “normalization” of relations. (akparti.org.tr) In this Turkish conversation the U.S. is no longer an abstract superpower but a concrete military and technological partner on whom the fate of the defense industry, Turkey’s status in NATO and the balance with Russia depend.

In Australia, the same events around Iran and Hormuz are experienced far more existentially. Australian media and experts note that the war with Iran has already directly affected the country: according to reports, three Australian service members were on board a U.S. submarine that sank an Iranian frigate off the coast of Sri Lanka, and Canberra, on that basis, refused a U.S. request to send a warship to the Strait of Hormuz, citing the condition of its own navy. (en.wikipedia.org) That decision became an important marker that unconditional support for U.S. military initiatives is no longer automatic.

Respected Australian commentators speak directly of a “paralysis” in thinking about the alliance with the U.S. A University of Sydney analysis emphasizes that Washington is simultaneously dragging Australia into confrontation with China and into conflict with Iran while itself pursuing an ever more impulsive policy, where Trump’s decisions on sanctions, tariffs and strikes on Iran are hard to predict. (ussc.edu.au) An Asia Times piece on Australian defense strategy notes that the document is formally geared toward strengthening cooperation with the U.S. and AUKUS, but hardly answers the question: what to do if Washington itself is less interested in a long-term presence in the region or starts demanding increasingly politically toxic involvement from allies in operations like the current campaign against Iran. (asiatimes.com) The paradox is that the riskier and less predictable the American line looks, the more Australia is forced to invest in it—and the more painful the domestic debate becomes over the limits of loyalty.

The German perspective on the U.S. in recent weeks has focused less on Hormuz and more on the economy and the architecture of world trade, though the Middle East war forms a constant backdrop. Analysts at Helaba bank in a recent review called last year’s “Liberation Day”—the moment of sharp tariff increases by the Trump administration to punish foreign suppliers—a “failure on all counts.” Detailed charts in that study show that after an import surge ahead of the tariff introductions, actual volumes of U.S. imports through early 2026 ended up higher than in the baseline 2024 period, while American consumers faced price increases and now, after the U.S. Supreme Court in February ruled much of the tariffs unlawful, Washington must prepare to return about $200 billion of revenues to the budget. (helaba.de) German authors see this as a classic example of how unilateral U.S. moves undermine confidence in the dollar system and the predictability of global trade—a risk that is structural for export-driven Germany.

Alongside this, German financial market commentators increasingly view the war in Iran as a backdrop complicating already nervy debates about Fed and ECB rates. In one recent daily analytical report Helaba stressed that the “Middle East war” and hopes for a quick ceasefire directly affect bond yields and the euro-dollar exchange rate, as well as investors’ willingness to take risks. The report adds that markets are closely awaiting another of Trump’s war statements at 3 a.m. European time, because any new escalation could instantly change oil and inflation expectations. (helaba.de) In such German conversations the U.S. appears more as a factor of global instability—on which the trajectory of an energy shock and thus monetary policy in the eurozone depends—than as a guarantor of security in the classic “Atlantic” sense.

A sticking point in Berlin’s debates remains the broader question of what will happen to the European security architecture if Washington continues drifting toward “selective” support for allies. The same fear is voiced in Turkey, where, in the Reuters account cited by Turkish party analysts, Ankara’s officials explicitly warn that any real steps by the U.S. to reduce commitments in Europe could be “devastating.” (akparti.org.tr) Echoes of that concern are heard in Germany, where experts increasingly argue for the need for a “Plan B” in case Trump-era U.S. policy finally loses predictability.

Where Turkey, Germany and Australia converge is on the economic dimension of American power. Turkish market reviews almost daily link the dynamics of inflation expectations and the lira with U.S. statistics: oil inventory reports, import price data and Fed decisions are treated as an “external shock” to which Ankara can respond with only limited tools. One of the latest analytical notes emphasized how a renewed closure of the Strait of Hormuz and expectations of tougher U.S. sanctions immediately push oil prices up and worsen Turkey’s balance-of-payments outlook. (vkyanaliz.com)

In Germany the conversation has shifted from tactical oscillations to a systemic threat: the distortion of the global trading system by U.S. tariff wars. German economists in the Helaba study explicitly state that Trump’s unilateral tariffs undermined the U.S. reputation as guardian of the liberal trading order, and the subsequent Supreme Court decision only underscores how domestic American political games can destroy predictability for external partners. (helaba.de) In Australia, stockmarket analysts note that local retail investors are actively shifting capital into the defense sector while also placing bets on U.S. tech and defense stocks amid the Iran war and the conflict in Ukraine: eToro data cited by ABC show rising interest in defense and AI equities in Q1 2026, which authors directly link to increased U.S. military presence and rhetoric. (abc.net.au)

Australia adds another layer to the international conversation about the U.S. in the context of AUKUS and broader Indo-Pacific competition. Canberra’s new defense strategy, Asia Times emphasizes, formally focuses on boosting its own capabilities and cooperating with the U.S. and the U.K., but many experts see in it the “elephant in the room”: the unspoken question of how ready Australia is to follow Washington unconditionally in its confrontation with China and in a simultaneous war with Iran. (asiatimes.com) Institutional reports, such as a JRI study on the role of “middle powers” in the era of U.S.-China rivalry, stress that Australia must seek additional support from relations with Japan and other regional partners because the U.S. “insurance policy” alone is no longer sufficient under such turbulent American policy. (jri.co.jp)

Also noteworthy is the reaction to recent U.S. strikes on Venezuela and the capture of Nicolás Maduro: while Australia’s right-wing Liberal-National coalition welcomed Washington’s actions, saying “we must live in a world where dictators are held accountable for their crimes,” this support is no longer seen as the nation’s obvious stance but as the position of one political force, whereas a segment of the public, weary of the Iran campaign, is much cooler to the idea of another American “export” operation. (en.wikipedia.org)

Taken together, looking at these three countries produces an interesting paradox: the louder the U.S. proclaims itself the “leader of the free world,” the more complex, conditional and pragmatic relations with it become even among formal allies. In Ankara, Washington is seen simultaneously as a source of sanctions, oil-price instability and a potential partner for a deal over the S-400 and a return to aviation programs. In Berlin, the U.S. is increasingly perceived as a factor of external instability—on energy and trade fronts—which must be adapted to but is ever harder to consider a reliable “anchor” of the global system. In Canberra, the U.S. remains the main security guarantor and key ally in the Indo-Pacific, but each new crisis—from Iran to Venezuela—strengthens the fear of becoming a puppet in someone else’s game.

These voices rarely reach an American audience in full: English-language readers in the U.S. are typically not exposed to the details of Turkish disputes over the S-400 and F-35, to German charts showing the failure of Trump’s tariff policy, or to Australian fears of dependence on a “capricious hegemon.” Yet it is in these local debates that the real state of American influence is revealed: it remains enormous, it still shapes agendas from Ankara to Canberra, but it is increasingly seen as neither natural nor indisputable. Instead of the old “Atlantic” consensus, we see a tangle of bargaining, cautious distancing and searches for contingencies—and in this new world the U.S., perhaps for the first time in decades, faces allies who not only listen but also assess, doubt and argue.

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The World Through Washington: How China, Brazil and Australia Argue With and About the U.S.

In mid‑April 2026 the United States are once again at the center of international debate, but the picture varies greatly depending on where one looks from. In Beijing the focus is primarily on U.S. trade and tariff policy, the dollar and the role of the Federal Reserve in the global financial system. In Brazil the conversation is about diplomatic humiliations, “recurrences of imperialism” and how President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is constructing a complex, contradictory stance toward Donald Trump. In Australia the spotlight is the U.S. role in the war with Iran and the broader question: to what extent should Canberra follow Washington’s lead when its own security and reputation are at stake. The common thread through these discussions is distrust of unilateral American actions and attempts to preserve maneuverability in a world where Washington remains powerful but is no longer omnipotent.

One of the main shared themes is U.S. “economic selfishness” and its consequences. In China analysts dissect in detail the combination of tough tariff policy and White House pressure on the Federal Reserve. Chinese economic commentators emphasize that the Fed’s shift to looser monetary policy in 2026 is perceived not as a technical adjustment but as part of Washington’s political course to implement the slogan “America First” by financing global imbalances. An Eastmoney piece notes that the Fed’s moves balance inflation, growth and financial stability, but that American politicians are openly pressuring the regulator to speed up rate cuts, turning the Fed’s independence into a “testing ground” for Trump’s populist rhetoric. Chinese commentators link this to the risk of losing confidence in the dollar as a stable settlement currency and to rising interest in alternatives, including the yuan and regional currency agreements. Writers at Sina Finance explicitly state that in 2026 Washington will “manipulate public opinion to pressure the Fed, export domestic problems through protectionism and undermine confidence in the dollar as a reliable settlement currency,” and that the abuse of financial sanctions increases the systemic risk of the dollar system.

On the other side of the globe, in Brazil the economic aspect of U.S. policy is overlaid on the painful backdrop of last year’s tariff conflict. The memory of Washington’s 2025 decision to impose 10 percent duties on a wide range of Brazilian imports, and then to expand tariff pressure to dozens of trading partners, is alive not only among experts but in popular perception. Brazilian analysts stress that Trump, justifying the new tariffs, portrayed trade relations as inherently unfavorable for the U.S., while the actual trade balance in 2024 showed a surplus for America in both goods and services. This gives ammunition to those who see Washington’s current trade policy not as protection of “Ohio jobs,” but as a tool of political pressure and a symbol of disregard for the rules of multilateral trade. Brazilian media regularly compare the current situation to the era of unilateral sanctions and embargoes of the Cold War, only now the targets include formal U.S. partners.

The Chinese discourse on the American economic line is broader and more systemic. There, tariffs against China and other countries, trade wars and financial sanctions fit into a picture of a long‑term U.S. attempt to cement dollar dominance and technological superiority through “managed chaos.” Chinese economists, relying on analyses from international organizations, note that by 2026 reciprocal “symmetric” tariffs exceeding 10 percent in trade between the U.S. and China have already become the new norm, not a temporary anomaly, prompting Beijing to accelerate diversification of export markets and development of domestic demand. At the same time Chinese media underline that in the new version of the U.S. National Security Strategy, Beijing no longer appears as the “most serious systemic threat” but is described as an “almost equal competitor,” and the slogan of “complete decoupling” has been replaced by the formula “reducing dependence in key areas.” In China this is read two ways: as recognition that a full “divorce” of the two largest economies is impossible, and as a signal that Washington is simply shifting from an openly confrontational course to a more sophisticated, managed competition.

Against this backdrop diplomatic scandals and conflicts involving the U.S. are perceived in Brazil as symptoms of the same illness – American confidence in the right to unilateral use of force and legal measures. The latest episode – the expulsion by U.S. authorities of a Brazilian police liaison officer from Florida – provoked an outcry in Brasília. In an interview with the Spanish edition of El País, Lula directly threatened reciprocity, saying that if American authorities abused their powers regarding the Brazilian officer, Brazil would respond in kind toward American personnel. As the paper notes, in recent weeks Lula has noticeably hardened his rhetoric toward Trump, accusing him of “bellicism and disregard for multilateralism” and stressing that “Trump has no right to wake up in the morning and threaten some country” — words he used in a recent conversation with El País journalists. In Brazilian discourse this is woven into a line from the tariff dispute of 2025 to the current diplomatic scandal, reinforcing the argument that the U.S. treats partners’ sovereignty selectively and views international law as a toolkit of options.

Brazil–U.S. relations are also complicated by internal Brazilian polarization. Right‑wing supporters of former president Jair Bolsonaro — the so‑called “Bolsonarism” — criticize Lula for “ideologizing” foreign policy and risking a cooling with Washington at a time when Brazil needs American investment and market access. The left, by contrast, sees Lula’s tougher tone as a long‑overdue correction: in their view Brazil should engage with the U.S. “as equals,” relying on its regional role and participation in BRICS. As a result any Washington move — from tariffs to the expulsion of an officer — becomes part of an internal struggle to define national identity: dependent “junior partner” or an autonomous pole in a multipolar world.

If from South America the U.S. looks like an overwhelmingly powerful but capricious partner, for Australia the key question sounds different: to what extent can and should it follow Washington on matters of war and peace. Against the backdrop of intensifying U.S. and allied conflict with Iran and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, a lively debate about Canberra’s role unfolded in Australian political discourse. In March and April 2026 Australian media covered in detail the country’s involvement in the U.S.‑led coalition’s actions, including the incident with an American submarine that sank an Iranian frigate carrying Australian servicemembers. This posed for the public the painful question: how transparent are decisions about Australia’s participation in U.S.‑commanded operations to citizens, and what is the price of such alignment for national security.

In interviews and comments to ABC News and other Australian outlets, Defense Minister Richard Marles emphasized that additional Australian participation in operations in the Strait of Hormuz would depend on achieving a sustainable ceasefire. He publicly disagreed with former prime minister Tony Abbott, who demanded more decisive support for U.S. military actions against Iran. In practice this debate symbolizes a broader split: part of the political class continues to believe that Australia’s security is inseparable from showing unconditional loyalty to the U.S., while others insist on a more “sovereign” approach — joining only those operations approved by the international community and backed by a clear mandate.

Against this backdrop Australia’s strategic debate about the alliance with the United States has taken on a new scale. Specialized outlets such as Defense News highlight that Australia is simultaneously sharply increasing its defense budget and investing in modernization of its navy, air force and cyber capabilities, relying on technological and intelligence cooperation with Washington. But the question is increasingly raised: are these steps arriving too late and do they undermine Canberra’s long‑term initiative in its own regional policy. Commentators speak of a “dependency dilemma”: the more Australia invests in joint U.S. programs, the harder it becomes to pursue a line different from America’s in crises like the Iranian one.

Interestingly, in both China and Australia the American line toward Iran and the Middle East is seen as symptomatic of a broader doctrine: the use of the threat of disproportionate force and the disregard of other actors’ mediation efforts. In China official and semi‑official commentators, including authors writing for party and academic platforms, stress that Washington’s reliance on “deterrence through denial” — a strategy embedded in American defense planning — is perceived by Beijing as justification for expanding the U.S. military presence in the Indo‑Pacific. Chinese experts note that the same logic the U.S. applies to Iran and the Strait of Hormuz can easily be transferred to the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea: the U.S. proclaims willingness to “deny the adversary victory,” even at the cost of escalating the risk of a major conflict.

Another layer of international reaction to the U.S. is criticism of its moral and political leadership from religious and humanitarian authorities, which is especially noticeable in the Latin American information space. The story of the confrontation between Washington and the Holy See, which began in January 2026 with Pope Leo XIV’s public opposition to American domestic and foreign policy — from actions in Venezuela and Iran to threats of annexing Greenland — elicited a strong response in predominantly Catholic South American countries. The Pope sharply denounced Trump’s April 7 statement threatening to “destroy Iranian civilization” to compel Tehran to open the Strait of Hormuz, calling it “truly unacceptable.” Brazilian press uses this conflict to argue that criticism of the U.S. comes not only from “anti‑American regimes” but from central figures of global Catholicism.

Against this backdrop Lula and other Latin American leaders readily situate their disagreements with Washington in a broader moral‑political context: defense of multilateralism, rejection of threats of genocide as diplomatic tools, respect for the sovereignty of weaker states. For Brazil’s domestic audience this allows a tough tone toward the U.S. to be presented not as a reckless provocation but as solidarity with the Pope and the developing world in opposing “impunity‑driven hegemonism.”

Finally, in China discussion of the U.S. is increasingly framed in terms of “systemic competition” and long‑term geopolitics. Chinese political and expert platforms analyze the upcoming visit of Donald Trump to Beijing and consider whether a new, conditional “fourth joint communique” between the U.S. and China might be possible to redefine the framework of relations after another round of escalation over Taiwan and trade wars. Chinese authors, including commentators writing for outlets aimed at the overseas Chinese diaspora, stress that in the new American strategy Beijing is no longer labeled an absolute enemy, but this does not mean a relaxation of confrontation: Washington is merely adapting to a situation of “near‑equal competition,” in which it must simultaneously contain, negotiate and compete. In this logic any concession by Washington — on tariffs, technological restrictions or rhetoric — is seen in China not as a goodwill gesture but as a forced acknowledgment of interdependence.

The result is a multidimensional, contradictory picture. In China the U.S. is primarily an economic‑financial and technological competitor which, while flirting with undermining its own dollar architecture, seeks to preserve advantages. In Brazil America appears as a powerful but unpredictable partner whose tariffs, expulsions and military threats force talk of “reciprocity” and sovereignty, while internal Brazilian disputes about the U.S. reflect societal division. In Australia Washington is both a security guarantor and the main ally, but also a source of strategic dependency that provokes debate over the limits of participation in its wars and the price of access to American technologies and nuclear submarines. What unites these perspectives is one belief: the era of unipolarity is over, and the U.S. ability to dictate terms without regard for partners and institutions faces increasingly firm, articulated and in its own way rational pushback on both sides of the Pacific and Atlantic.

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The World Through Washington's Lens: How East Asia Debates the US Today

In East Asia the United States is currently viewed through a magnifying glass: everything Washington does — from trade tariffs to military exercises and domestic political scandals — is immediately translated into the language of local interests. In Seoul they are debating whether the Korean economy can withstand another round of US–China confrontation. In Tokyo they argue how far they can lean on the American "nuclear umbrella" without becoming a mere strategic appendage to the United States. And in Beijing almost any news from Washington is fitted into a broader narrative about "hegemonism" and the "decline of the American model," while at the same time highlighting the painful mutual dependence of the two economies.

Several topics come to the fore in April. First, the consequences of the US Supreme Court decision that limited the president’s authority to impose "emergency" tariffs, and the ensuing reshaping of the American tariff regime — this is topic No. 1 for Chinese economic and legal circles and a sensitive point for Seoul. Second, the whole bundle "US–China–regional security": from Taiwan to the South China Sea and the East China Sea. Japanese analysts are literally churning out reports on how to reform their policies for a protracted strategic competition between the US and China. Third, the state of American domestic politics and the phenomenon of "Trump 2.0" are seen in both Korea and Japan as a factor of global instability, capable of radically changing Washington’s foreign agenda every four years. Finally, there are more "technical" topics — from US financial indicators to investments in AI — which, through an Asian lens, look like part of the struggle for technological superiority.

Looking by subject, a complex mosaic emerges: the same steps by Washington provoke cautious alarm in Seoul, pragmatic but thoughtful assent in Tokyo, and a mixture of official outrage and pragmatic recalculation of costs in Beijing.

One of the most discussed events recently in Chinese professional circles is the US Supreme Court decision of 20 February 2026, which found that the Trump administration exceeded its authority by using the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) to impose broad import tariffs on more than a hundred countries, including China. Chinese law firm Fangda, in its detailed analytical review, emphasizes that the court effectively "cut off" the White House’s ability to bypass ordinary trade legislation, thereby reducing the arbitrariness of American tariff policy. Their piece, published on the firm’s website, says that as a result of the decision the baseline "country" surcharge on tariffs for Chinese goods dropped from 20% to 10%, although sectoral surcharges for particular industries (for example, high-tech) remain at previous levels. Fangda’s analysts interpret this not as the end of a "tariff war" but as a transition to a more "legally formalized" phase of confrontation, where Congress and traditional trade-policy instruments again come to the fore. Their commentary is published in the analytical note "终局还是第二幕的开场？—特朗普政府的关税政策被美国最高法院认定非法" on the Fangda Partners website (https://www.fangdalaw.com/content/details32_9232.html).

At the same time, China’s Ministry of Commerce comments less on the court and more on the administration’s practical steps: in March a ministry spokesperson answered a question noting that from 24 February 2026 the US stopped collecting additional IEEPA-based tariffs and moved to charging an "import surcharge" under section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974 — on a nondiscriminatory basis to all partners. In a comment published on the MOFCOM website, it is stressed that although the move looks "universal" in name, in practice it continues Washington’s line of "politicizing trade" and undermines the WTO multilateral system because it creates instability in conditions of access to the American market. This comment appears in the format of the Ministry’s press secretary answers on the ministry’s site: "商务部新闻发言人就美近期关税调整举措答记者问" on the Ministry of Commerce of the PRC portal (https://www.mofcom.gov.cn/xwfb/xwfyrth/art/2026/art_330d467d65ce4b11aacf70b14597754e.html).

Interestingly, in Chinese business media the discussion of American tariffs is already shifting from pure political assessment to a pragmatic question: how to reclaim overpaid "illegal" duties. Financial portal Sina, in an April piece on the state of the stock market, reports that the US has launched a procedure to refund illegally collected tariffs, and claims exceeding $100 million are already under review. For Chinese exporters this is not only an opportunity to recoup some losses but also an indicator that even within the American system there is a struggle over the limits of presidential trade powers. These data are cited in the review "A股特别提示（4-16）：美国启动非法关税退款流程，已有上亿美元申请待处理" on the Sina Finance portal (https://finance.sina.com.cn/wm/2026-04-16/doc-inhusenk7287000.shtml).

From the South Korean perspective the same US tariff story looks different. Most Korean commentary focuses less on the legal side and more on the risks to the country’s export model, which is tied both to the US and to China. Economic desks of leading Seoul newspapers view the new American "import surcharge" as another element of "American-style decoupling" that may incentivize partial relocation of production chains out of China, while at the same time hitting Korean companies deeply embedded in Chinese industry. In one column an economic commentator at a major business outlet describes the mood in business with: "Korea is becoming collateral damage in the tariff war that Washington and Beijing are waging against each other." Unlike Beijing, Seoul avoids harsh political rhetoric: the tone is more a call for "subtle diplomacy" to obtain exemptions and special regimes for key Korean goods — from steel to batteries.

For Japan American economic policy is perceived through the prism of long-term strategy: here they actively discuss not only tariffs but the overall US reorientation toward geo-economic containment of China. In this sense an April analytical piece by the Institute of Geoeconomics (IOG) is telling, comparing how the US is positioned in the strategies of Japan and Australia. The author notes that in Australia’s new defense strategy, as in Japan’s 2022 National Security Strategy, the alliance with the US is seen as "necessary not only for one’s own security but for maintaining peace and stability in the Indo-Pacific region and the international community as a whole." At the same time it is emphasized that Japan, being in immediate proximity to a potential "hotspot" in the Taiwan Strait, must seriously include scenarios in which part of its territory could effectively fall into a combat zone. This analysis is presented in the article "戦略三文書における米国の位置づけ方：オーストラリアの戦略を参考に" on the Institute of Geoeconomics IOG website (https://instituteofgeoeconomics.org/research/2026042001/).

Security is the second major prism through which East Asia views the US. In Japanese discourse there is a noticeable split: official Defense Ministry documents and government-aligned analysts stress the indispensability of the American presence to deter China and North Korea, while more left-leaning media and experts warn of the risk of Japan being "drawn into" American military adventures. The official Defense White Paper 2024, posted on the Ministry of Defense website, describes the international system as a space of "deep competition" between the US, striving to preserve an "order based on rules," and China with Russia, who challenge that order. It also analyzes China’s growing nuclear and conventional capabilities and concludes that "Japan’s security is increasingly intertwined with the global strategy of the United States," including plans to strengthen American activity in the Indo-Pacific region, which are also reflected in NATO’s new strategic concept. These points can be found in the "対外関係など" section of the "令和6年版防衛白書" on the Ministry of Defense of Japan website (https://www.mod.go.jp/j/press/wp/wp2024/html/n130203000.html).

The narrative is constructed very differently in China. If for Tokyo the American military umbrella is the basis of national strategy, for Beijing any US steps to strengthen alliances are interpreted as "encirclement" and an attempt to block China’s legitimate rise. In Chinese press and official commentary the US is still described as a country that "abuses its hegemony" in military and economic spheres. One telling comment from an economic publication, reprinted on the Ministry of Veterans Affairs portal, describes the new wave of American tariffs against Chinese goods as "关税讹诈" — "tariff racketeering." The author claims that acting "under the slogan of 'equal tariffs,'" Washington is effectively unleashing a "tariff cold war" that undermines not only Chinese exports but the stability of global trade, from which the US itself has long been a principal beneficiary. This commentary is published on the Ministry’s website in the piece "经济日报评论员：“关税讹诈”阻挡不了中国人民前进步伐" on the Ministry of Veterans Affairs of the PRC portal (https://www.mva.gov.cn/sy/zt/zt1/xxgcddsjdjs/mtpl/202504/t20250411_489156.html).

Seoul sits between these two poles. On one side, South Korea is a formal US ally, tied to American nuclear guarantees and joint military planning regarding the DPRK. On the other, the Chinese market remains critical for Korean exports, and the memory of China’s response to the deployment of the US THAAD missile-defense system in 2017 is still alive. That is why Korean analytical columns on American security are full of calls for "narrow strategic autonomy": the idea is to strengthen the alliance with the US while minimizing participation in an open confrontation between Washington and Beijing in the South China Sea and around Taiwan. For many Korean authors Japan is a negative example — seen as too tightly "stitched into" American global strategy.

The third major theme is American domestic politics and the perception of the "Trump 2.0" phenomenon. In Japan this is covered not only in newspaper columns but in whole analytical series. Research centers like the Institute of Geoeconomics conduct reviews of international reactions to Trump’s return to the White House, attempting to understand which segments of American society support the current policies. One Japanese publicist on the Livedoor portal, analyzing the latest polls ahead of the 2026 midterms, writes that the usual image of "the educated vote Democratic, the masses vote Republican" in the US no longer works: "A new sociology of American politics shows that support for Trump is increasingly spread across age, regional and cultural lines, rather than by education level." The author, with a decade of experience in Washington budget structures, warns the Japanese audience: instability and polarization in the US are not a temporary glitch but a new norm that Tokyo must learn to live with. His reflections appear in an article on the Livedoor News portal (https://news.livedoor.com/article/detail/30863805/).

In China US domestic politics are traditionally presented as evidence of the "decline" of Western democracy. But in professional circles — among Americanists, economists, and lawyers — the attitude is more nuanced. They see that the same institutions that give rise to populism and political chaos also generate serious checks on White House foreign-policy voluntarism — the aforementioned Supreme Court decision on tariffs being an example. Chinese experts in university and think tank publications discuss how institutional resilience and political turbulence coexist in contemporary America, and try to forecast how long China can exploit internal US divisions to strengthen its own global position.

In South Korea the contrast is even sharper: many commentators are openly irritated that their key ally’s foreign policy can drastically change every four years. One editorial in a major Seoul newspaper states: "The question for Korea is not who sits in the Oval Office — a Democrat or a Republican — but whether we can afford a strategy entirely dependent on the American electoral pendulum." Korean analysts actively compare Trump’s behavior in his first term and in the second iteration, concluding that the current White House is even less inclined toward multilateral formats and even more willing to use "unilateral economic levers" — from tariffs to sanctions. Hence calls for Korea to strengthen its own networks of agreements with the EU, Southeast Asia and even some Middle Eastern countries, to at least partially "diversify" its external dependence.

Finally, one more layer should be noted: East Asia’s views on the American economy and tech sector. In China they closely watch any signals about US investments in AI and semiconductors, because these are directly connected to the technological race between the two powers and export-control questions. Chinese financial outlets actively cite news about how large Japanese and South Korean corporations are integrating into American AI ecosystems, and discuss whether this could become another channel for the drain of talent and technology from the region to the US. One April review of the Chinese market, mentioned above on the Sina portal, lists as a key item the discussion of SoftBank’s massive credit line to invest in the American company OpenAI — presented as an example that the US still attracts global capital in high tech, despite political turbulence. Details are discussed in the aforementioned review on Sina Finance (https://finance.sina.com.cn/wm/2026-04-16/doc-inhusenk7287000.shtml).

Japan, for its part, sees the American push in AI and defense technologies as both an opportunity and a risk. On one hand, the alliance with the US allows Tokyo to access advanced developments and partially integrate them into its own defense and industrial bases. On the other hand, there is growing concern that increased American control over chip supply chains, cloud services and AI platforms will further solidify asymmetry in the alliance. Experts note this not only in the media but in academic works on the "geo-economics of semiconductors" and "Japan’s digital sovereignty" — they increasingly ask how to preserve room for independent policy when key technological standards are set in Silicon Valley and Washington.

In Korea the technical side of American power is perceived in a more applied way. Much is written about how Korean chaebol navigate between American export-control demands on China and their desire to maintain market shares in China. For Korean tech companies Washington is simultaneously the largest customer and the main regulator that sets the rules of the game in chips and AI. Commentators note that strategic uncertainty in American policy — tariff, sanctions, technological — forces business to more actively lobby in Seoul for the creation of a "safety cushion" in the form of national R&D support programs and export insurance.

Putting these disparate threads together produces a rather paradoxical picture. In China the US is officially called a source of instability and "tariff racketeering," yet it is precisely American courts and mechanisms for refunding illegal tariffs that give Chinese businesses the chance to partially compensate losses, while American demand remains critically important for many sectors. In Japan the US is an indispensable strategic ally and the main security guarantor, but the closer the alliance becomes the louder the questions about the cost of dependence — from involvement in a potential conflict over Taiwan to loss of technological and digital sovereignty. In South Korea the US is seen as a necessary but extremely unpredictable partner whose domestic political swings directly affect the fate of the Korean economy and security.

In all three countries the US remains a central external factor — but no longer the unquestioned leader it was in the 1990s. It is now a complex, contradictory, at times chaotic player whom no one in East Asia can afford to fully trust or completely ignore. That is why East Asian debates about the US today are much deeper and more ambiguous than American punditry: what is at stake here are not abstract values but the concrete costs of security, growth and sovereignty in a region that Washington has, for the first time in a long while, acknowledged as its main strategic priority.

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Washington Under Fire of Others' Expectations: How Russia, Israel and Turkey Debate the US Role in a New...

Since the start of 2026, the attention of key regional players — Russia, Israel and Turkey — has been almost synchronously fixed on one story: how the United States is behaving in the escalating war with Iran and what that war says about the real power, intentions and future influence of the US. Against the backdrop of joint US and Israeli strikes on Iran, escalation in the Persian Gulf and the demonstrative deployment of American forces, discussion of Washington has ceased to be abstract geopolitics and turned into a conversation about personal security, domestic politics and economic survival. But viewed from Moscow, Tel Aviv and Ankara, the picture of the US is completely different: from an image of an unpredictable but still dangerous superpower to a sign of weakening of the Western bloc and the beginning of a more multipolar world.

The central theme that unites all three discourses is the US and Israeli war with Iran, which began with a strike campaign on February 28, 2026. In Russian sources it appears as the “US and Israeli war with Iran,” emphasizing the two-headed nature of the operation and its regime‑change intent: it concerns coordinated strikes on Iranian leadership, military infrastructure and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Command, given code names “Roaring Lion” in the Israeli version and “Epic Fury” in the American. This operation is precharacterized as aimed at “transferring power” in Tehran, not only at containing the nuclear program, which in the Russian media field easily fits into the explainable narrative of Washington as a global director of regime changes. In Russian texts, more general forecasts surface in parallel: experts cited by, for example, Moskovsky Komsomolets contrast Joe Biden’s approach, described as seeking the “strategic defeat” of Russia, with the current line of Donald Trump, who, in their version, wants to “resolve the Ukrainian conflict and develop relations with Moscow” while at the same time not hesitating to apply forceful pressure on Iran. This combination creates in the Russian discourse an image of the US as a power that can partially roll back the anti‑Russian line but is not ready to give up forceful dominance in the Middle East — and thus remains a structural adversary in the long term.

Israeli analysis looks at the same conflict from within the American‑Israeli alliance, but here too the US does not appear as an unambiguous guarantor of security. In materials from right‑conservative and centrist Israeli institutes such as the Misgav Institute, the US appears as the military locomotive of the operation: analyst Eli Klutstein describes how Washington simultaneously seeks to destroy ballistic missiles and drone bases capable of striking American forces, Israel and regional allies, while preserving an opening for negotiations, trying to compel Tehran to concede. He emphasizes that the main US task is not only the protection of Israel but the security of its own contingents and sea lines, primarily in the Strait of Hormuz, vital for the global oil market. But in the center‑left and liberal press the same military alliance is painted differently: here they stress the “diplomatic cost” of the joint operation. In publications modeling a “hypothetical war” with Iran, authors explicitly write that such a campaign will be accompanied by an “erosion of international support” for Israel and growing criticism of America as a sponsor of unilateral force, while domestic fatigue with endless Middle Eastern campaigns will increase within the US. This line effectively calls into question the traditional belief in the Israeli right wing in unconditional American backing: yes, the Pentagon can still organize a “campaign without a theory of victory,” but this increasingly contradicts American public sentiment and creates political risk in Washington.

The Turkish debate about America around the same war is even more contradictory. On one hand, in moderately academic texts such as analyses by Uluslararası Politika Akademisi, the US appears as a still‑dominant military power capable, together with Israel, of inflicting catastrophic damage to Iranian military potential in a matter of days. The authors detail the scale of the strikes: destroyed or severely damaged ballistic and nuclear program facilities, the deaths of dozens of senior Iranian military and political figures, hundreds of civilian casualties, with comparatively small losses for the US and Israel. But they also emphasize the flip side: attacks on American bases and allied infrastructure, strikes on energy facilities in Gulf countries, rising energy and tourism prices — in other words, economic costs for the whole bloc of Washington’s allies. In another key, left‑socialist and anti‑imperialist outlets like the Turkish edition of the World Socialist Web Site and allied platforms, it is insisted that Washington and Tel Aviv’s war against Iran “has neither legal nor moral justification,” comparing the February 28, 2026 strike to Germany’s attack on Poland in 1939. Those sources also cite poll data, such as a YouGov study showing support for the operation in American society at around one third — “the lowest figure for a major contemporary US military intervention” and substantially lower than initial support for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. For a Turkish audience this is used as an argument: Washington is still capable of starting a war, but can no longer rely on durable domestic consensus, and therefore its distant campaigns are increasingly vulnerable.

Against this backdrop, Russia is paying particular attention to how the transatlantic tie around the Iranian conflict is changing. Russian state media and affiliated analytical centers stress that the “formerly united West is becoming dualistic”: the US, according to one Russian parliamentarian, “acts without regard for European allies,” while Europe, remaining economically and militarily dependent, nonetheless “does not want to help in the conflict with Iran.” Turkish outlets quoting analyses from Egypt’s al‑Ahram paint a very similar picture: in Europe there are many statements favoring a desirable “democratic transformation” of Iran and ending its nuclear program, but direct support for the US‑Israeli war is virtually absent. Authors emphasize that Washington’s calls for European allies to participate in a military operation to ensure freedom of navigation in the Persian Gulf find no response, and disagreements have moved out from under the diplomatic rug into open media polemics. Thus, Russian and Turkish discourse intersect: both use the same storyline about a “gap” between the US and Europe, but draw different conclusions. Moscow sees in this confirmation of its thesis about the degradation of the Euro‑Atlantic bloc and an opportunity to play on contradictions, while Ankara sees a chance to expand its own diplomatic maneuver between the West, Iran and Eurasian actors, including Russia and China.

Another line of analysis, especially noticeable in Turkish and pro‑Russian sources, concerns the war’s effect on US domestic politics and Trump’s prospects. In an interview published, for example, on Sputnik Türkiye, political scientist Mehmet Perinçek claims that a possible US defeat in a clash with Iran would be not only a foreign‑policy but also a domestic blow to Washington and personally to Trump. He constructs an almost programmatic narrative: in his view, the continuation of the war will push the US into an “even more difficult position” both militarily and politically; Trump allegedly “was forced to agree to a ceasefire” after “trying all options and failing,” which demonstrates the “weakening of US global power” and, more broadly, the “victory of Eurasia.” In this discourse the war in Iran becomes less of a local conflict than a test of the real viability of American hegemony. Emphasizing that Iran’s success is ensured by reliance on “US‑independent defense technologies,” Perinçek effectively addresses a message to other countries — from Turkey to Russia and India: exiting dependence on American weaponry and finance is the key to strategic autonomy and reducing vulnerability to sanctions and military pressure. This argument, constantly circulated in Turkish and Russian media, partially explains why even in countries formally cooperating with NATO interest in alternative sources of armaments and security is growing.

Russian media discourse, beyond the Iranian theme, continues to view the US through the prism of the Ukrainian conflict and the overall architecture of European security. Analytical pieces emphasize that the new American strategy published in December 2025 allegedly prioritizes “Ukraine, not confrontation with Russia as such,” and allows limited normalization with Moscow. Experts on Russian platforms develop the idea that, by focusing on the Iranian theater and facing growing pressure in Congress over the cost of supporting Kyiv, Washington may in the future partially reallocate resources, letting Europe “sort out” the consequences of the Ukrainian war itself. At the same time Russian politicians publicly speculate about NATO’s future: the United States, they say, demands more European engagement both in Ukraine and in the Middle East, while European elites “do not want to fight Iran nor follow American plans in the Arctic and around Greenland.” Thus Russia uses the current crisis to show: the US is overstretched, and its ability to simultaneously keep a hand on the pulse of Eastern Europe and the Middle East is nearing its limit.

In Israel the American role is perceived as more ambivalent. On one hand, for a significant portion of Israeli society and the political class the US remains an indispensable guarantor against a nuclear Iran: it is American carrier groups, missile‑defense systems and intelligence that provide the depth of strike and degree of cover Israel could not obtain alone. Analyses like the Misgav publication note that the US is primarily interested in protecting its own forces and supply lines, but in practice that coincides with Israeli interests: the destruction of Iran’s missile and drone capacities also reduces the threat to Israeli cities. On the other hand, worries are growing in the Israeli press: is American understanding of Israel as a priority ally resilient enough in the face of public fatigue with wars and domestic divisions in the US? Pieces comparing the current operation with hypothetical scenarios from past years emphasize that any protracted campaign with a high cost in lives and resources inevitably sharpens debates in Congress and among American voters about whether “Israel is worth all these wars.” Thus even in Israel, where belief in Washington’s “iron” support has been strong, doubt is entering the public field: can one rely on the US strategically if its domestic politics become increasingly unpredictable.

Turkey reads Washington through its own experience balancing between NATO and Eurasian alternatives. Expert columns stress that the US still plays a key role in NATO’s architecture but has lost its former monopoly authority: the unwillingness of many European capitals to participate in the Iran campaign and Ankara’s cautious distancing from sharp anti‑Iran rhetoric demonstrate that the American “front line” in the Middle East is no longer perceived as collective. Turkish authors openly state that there is no “Western consensus” around the US and Israeli war on Iran, and decisions in Washington increasingly look like products of internal electoral calculations rather than a durable strategy. This, in turn, strengthens the view in Turkish discourse that it is more advantageous for the country to maintain its own autonomy: to build relations with Russia, Iran and China, and to interact with the US pragmatically and selectively in areas of overlapping interest, but not to follow the course of every American campaign.

At the intersection of these three perspectives — Russian, Israeli and Turkish — a less familiar image of the US for American audiences emerges. It is no longer the unconditional “world policeman” whose actions automatically form a coalition of allies and are approved by its own society, but an overstretched and internally polarized center of power whose initiatives provoke growing skepticism even among closest partners. For Russia this signals that a window of opportunity for expanding its influence and maneuvering between West and East remains open. For Israel it is a worrying chime that reliance on the US as an unconditional security guarantor may hit limits in American domestic politics. For Turkey it confirms that betting on multivector diplomacy and autonomy from Washington is not only possible but becoming increasingly rational.

While in Washington debates are focused on tactics in Ukraine, Congressional dynamics and Trump’s ratings, outside the US the discussion has shifted to something else: how long will the period last during which America can still launch large wars without a clear mandate from its own society and a broad international coalition. Answers to this question vary in Moscow, Tel Aviv and Ankara, but on one point almost all agree: the era of automatic assent to each new American military campaign is over, and that changes the rules of the game for everyone — both Washington’s allies and its opponents.

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The World Watches Washington: Russia, South Africa and Germany Reassess the US

At the start of 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of the global agenda — not as a lone "hegemon," but as a turbulent, contradictory factor from which both restraint is expected and abrupt moves are feared. In Russia, South Africa and Germany they are debating not one or two headline episodes, but a whole tangle of storylines: the war of the US and Israel with Iran and strikes on American bases, a new Washington military operation in Venezuela, the future of arms control, the Trump administration’s behavior toward allies and opponents, and the impact of American policy on the global economy and energy markets. Each of these narratives is refracted through local experience and fears — hence the very different tones: from pragmatic irritation to cautious hope and outright distrust.

The first major focus is the large-scale escalation in the Middle East and the war of the US and Israel with Iran. In German and South African discussions this is primarily seen as a blow to economies and security; in Russian ones — as further evidence that Washington remains a source of instability. The conflict that began in early 2026 led to Iranian missile strikes on American bases in the Middle East, which international media describe as one of the most dangerous spirals of confrontation in recent years. Against the backdrop of the war, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk publicly condemned the actions of the US and Israel, as well as Iran’s retaliatory strikes, calling on the parties to negotiate; Moscow, meanwhile, called the attack on Iran an "unprovoked aggression" by Washington and Tel Aviv, emphasizing that it was the US that allegedly disrupted possibilities for a political settlement by shifting the emphasis to a forceful resolution of the conflict, as Russian commentators reminded, citing earlier campaigns from Vietnam to Afghanistan and Ukraine and treating them as a single line of American coercive foreign policy, subordinated to the interests of D. Trump and the US "national strategy."

In South Africa the same war is perceived much less ideologically and far more concretely — through pump prices and the state of the stock market. South African business media emphasize that the escalation between the US and Iran immediately hit business sentiment, which had only just reached decade-highs in early 2026. Analysts at Workforce Africa write that the new turbulence around the Strait of Hormuz and oil supplies "threatens the fragile recovery of the South African economy," noting that, according to Central Energy Fund data, by April there was already an under-supply amounting to almost 2 rand per liter of petrol and more than 3 rand per liter of diesel, which presages a future spike in domestic prices. In this context the US appears not so much as an "enemy" or a "partner" as an unpredictable external factor capable, with a single decision, of sharply changing living conditions on the other side of the planet.

In Germany the war of the US and Israel with Iran and the related strikes on American facilities fit into a broader conversation about whether Europe can continue to rely on Washington as the sole pillar of security. German commentators who wrote about the February Munich Security Conference noted that Europe, on the one hand, has "grown up," raising defense spending to levels that a year ago seemed unthinkable, but on the other hand has not stepped back from the "edge of the abyss," since it remains critically dependent on strategic decisions by the US. Journalists such as Daniel Brossler and Moritz Koch point out that despite rhetoric about "America and Europe belonging to each other," the real policies of the Trump administration — from boycotting summits to pressure around energy and trade — are forcing Berlin to rethink the very foundation of the transatlantic partnership; in this logic Washington’s Middle Eastern campaigns are no longer perceived as a "common Western mission," but as a risk that Germany is forced to share without having influence over it.

The second major storyline is arms control and the fate of New START (ДСНВ), the last major limitation on the strategic nuclear arsenals of Russia and the US. In the Russian expert field this topic has become one of the key markers of attitudes toward the new administration in Washington. Russian outlets such as RBC analyzed the situation in detail after the formal parameters of the treaty lapsed in early 2026. Experts emphasize that "an immediate deterioration will nonetheless not occur," since Moscow has effectively proposed to Washington not to exceed the previous ceilings even in the absence of a legally binding text. At the same time, as Russian specialists on strategic stability explain, a view has solidified within the American establishment that the US must now expand its nuclear arsenal in order to simultaneously deter Russia and China. A Russian political scientist, commenting on prospects, noted that "the likelihood of a formal US abandonment of restrictions is extremely small now, but in a year it will be more difficult to do than today," and therefore the Kremlin is hurrying to lock in at least informal arrangements.

For Russian analysts what matters here is not only the technical question of warhead numbers but also symbolism: under Biden, as Americanists recall, Washington sought the "strategic defeat" of Russia, while under Trump there is verbal advocacy for "resolving the Ukrainian conflict" and developing dialogue with Moscow, yet in reality little has changed in the nearly year since the 2025 inauguration. This feeds habitual skepticism: the US is presented as a partner whose promises are situational and depend on domestic political cycles, and any positive statements on arms control are seen as a tactical pause rather than a turning point.

In Germany the issue of US nuclear deterrence appears differently — through debate over how reliable the American "nuclear umbrella" over Europe is. Against the background of debates about New START and the overall rise in tensions between Washington and Moscow, German commentators write that Germany is forced both to increase its military spending and to remain integrated into American nuclear plans, without having political control over the US’s strategic decisions. For part of the political spectrum, especially among populists and Euroskeptics, this is another argument in favor of Berlin building an autonomous European security architecture or, as critics of the current course assert, reconsidering sanctions and policy toward Russia so as to reduce the role of the United States as both "guarantor" and "risk."

In South Africa arms control rarely reaches the forefront of public debate, but local international relations experts in academia comment on the escalation between nuclear powers from a different angle: the rise in strategic competition among the US, Russia and China is perceived as yet another factor weakening global institutions in which Global South countries had hoped for greater agency. University discussions emphasize that as Washington concentrates on great-power rivalry it pays less attention to reforming international financial and trade rules, and thus to the interests of countries like South Africa.

The third knotty storyline is the Trump administration’s behavior toward partners in the "non-Western world," particularly South Africa, and the general hardening of the American course. In the South African press the appointment of transition-era veteran and negotiator Roelf Meyer as ambassador to the US has been actively discussed in recent months. As Associated Press reminded readers, President Cyril Ramaphosa chose Meyer as a figure capable of "stabilizing relations" with Washington after their sharp deterioration under Trump, when the South African ambassador was expelled for criticizing the US president, and the White House in response completely cut off financial aid, accusing the South African government of "white genocide" while simultaneously opening doors to Afrikaner migration to the US. South African US–Africa relations expert Professor John Stremlau commented that Meyer is "the right person at the right time," possessing experience in conflict resolution, but emphasized that it will be very difficult for him to "stabilize relations" while Washington pursues an agenda he characterized as "racist" toward South Africa’s black majority.

South African media also note that the new US ambassador, Leo Brent Bozell III, a conservative activist, began his mission by openly criticizing Pretoria’s ties with Iran and its affirmative action policies favoring black citizens, which immediately provoked a protest from the South African Foreign Ministry. For South African society the US appears in a dual role: on one hand, the main economic and financial center whose tariff decisions, as Channel Africa recently reminded readers, have a direct impact on the current account and banking system stability; on the other hand, a state whose internal political rhetoric and foreign line on racial and social policies are perceived as interference and disrespect for sovereignty. In this context Meyer’s appointment is interpreted as Ramaphosa’s attempt to "defuse" the situation without a direct rupture, but also without conceding on core issues such as South Africa’s case against Israel at the International Court of Justice accusing it of genocide, which local commentators consider one of the main irritants for Washington.

In Russia the figure of Trump and his behavior toward allies and opponents also remain central, but from a different angle. Russian commentators trace a line from Biden’s rhetoric about the "strategic defeat of Russia" to Trump’s declared course to "solve the Ukrainian conflict" and "develop relations with Moscow," while stressing that in the nearly year since Trump’s return to the White House "in fact little has changed." Political scientist Alexander Asafov told the Russian press that yes, the rhetoric has softened and there are calls for negotiating with Russia, but on Ukraine, sanctions, and US military presence in Europe there have been no serious moves. From this follows a conclusion shared by many Russian analysts: whatever Washington’s rhetoric, the strategic inertia of American foreign policy is too great, and the domestic elites too unanimous in viewing Russia as the "main adversary" to expect a genuine turnaround.

The German angle on Trump and the current US administration is considerably more critical and anxious. For the German establishment it is not only about specific steps — such as boycotting the G20 summit in South Africa in 2025 or pressure on Berlin over defense spending — but about a deeper fear: can the US still be considered a reliable partner given such domestic polarization and a readiness by the administration to sacrifice multilateralism for short-term gains. In this context a Eurobarometer poll cited by the Russian-language Euronews is telling: one in five Europeans sees the US as a "threat," and in Germany nearly half of respondents are convinced that the split with America has reached a "point of no return" and is no longer reducible to the personality of a particular president. German press emphasize that many in Berlin no longer believe in an automatic "softening" of US policy after Trump’s departure and see what is happening as a long-term trend toward greater harshness and unilateralism in Washington.

The economic metric of the American factor is a separate line of debate, particularly noticeable in Germany and South Africa. South African economists emphasize the dual nature of the effect: on the one hand, a hard US line on tariffs and sanctions creates risks for exports and the current account, as the IMF’s recent report on South Africa reminded readers; on the other — the turbulence caused by American confrontations with Iran, Russia and China drives up commodity prices, which brings short-term gains to exporters but painfully hits domestic consumers of fuel and food. South African business associations openly speak of a "tax on US unpredictability," implying that any new sanctions or US military campaigns instantly translate into higher costs for credit and insurance of trade flows for Global South countries.

In Germany the conflict around Russian gas, sanctions and global energy has become one of the points where the US consistently figures as an important backdrop. German conservative and Euroskeptic commentators, such as economist Hans‑Werner Sinn, complain that the cutoff of Russian gas and the simultaneous increase in dependence on liquefied gas, including American supplies, have hurt the competitiveness of German industry. A comparison has emerged in commentary: while US GDP has grown by more than 8% since 2019 and China has added over 20%, Germany is essentially stalling, becoming, in Sinn’s phrase, a "redistributor state." The American factor here is not primary but important: Washington is seen as a beneficiary of Europe’s energy crisis and as one of the architects of the sanctions regime which, critics say, has weakened the EU more than the US.

The Russian discussion of the economic role of the US in 2026 is more fragmentary, but it shows a shift in emphasis: whereas a few years ago American sanctions and financial pressure dominated the narrative, now the link between US policy and swings in world oil and gas prices comes to the fore. Russian analysts note that a major Russian airstrike on Ukraine in April 2026 occurred against a backdrop of increased oil revenues caused by a price surge due to the US–Israel war with Iran and adjustments in Washington’s sanctions regime related to that war. For Russian experts this is a reminder that the United States itself constantly oscillates between punishment and engagement with Iran, using sanctions as a flexible tool, which makes the global conjuncture even more dependent on US domestic political calculations.

Finally, an important but less headline-grabbing aspect is the general change in perception of the US as a "threat" or a "partner" in public opinion. The poll cited by Euronews showed that although attention in Europe is generally rising toward China as the main potential rival, a significant share of citizens still see the US as a source of risk rather than simply protection. Notably, in Spain — an EU country that openly condemned the US strike on Iran as an "unjustified and dangerous military intervention" — levels of anxiety about American policy were among the highest. Germany proved the most pessimistic about prospects for "normalization" after Trump: nearly half of respondents are convinced this is a deepening structural split.

If one sums up these divergent voices, a fairly coherent picture emerges. Russia sees the US as the same strategic opponent, whose gestures of goodwill on arms control and conflicts in the post‑Soviet space are perceived as tactical and reversible. South Africa views America as a powerful but not particularly sensitive center of power to the interests of the Global South, on whose decisions depend fuel prices, access to financing, and the fate of regional conflicts; meanwhile the South African elite attempts to "tame" this factor through personal appointments and cautious diplomatic maneuvering. Germany has arguably found itself in the most difficult position: simultaneously dependent on the American military and nuclear umbrella, economically tied to the US and increasingly irritated by its unilateralism, it is forced to seek a fragile balance between preserving the transatlantic alliance and building its own strategic autonomy.

In all three countries one common conclusion stands out: the world in which the US could unilaterally set the "rules of the game" and count on almost automatic support from key partners is rapidly receding into the past. It is being replaced by a more fragmented reality in which Washington remains a necessary but far from unchallenged center of power, and its actions are increasingly met not with silent consent but with wary, critical and more autonomous responses.

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How the world views America today: Ukraine, South Africa and Japan on the new US role

In different corners of the world, the United States appears in the news agenda with different faces — sometimes as the main military backer, sometimes as a complicated diplomatic partner, sometimes as a strategic security guarantor in the Asia‑Pacific region. If you try to see this not through America's own eyes but through the lenses of Kyiv, Pretoria and Tokyo, a fairly coherent, though contradictory, picture emerges: the US remains an indispensable player, but confidence in its reliability and predictability has noticeably declined.

In the Ukrainian discussion, America is still primarily associated with weapons, sanctions and political signals on which the life of the front and the prospect of the state's survival literally depend. Ukrainian analytical outlets discuss in detail the cuts and pauses in American military aid, considering them the central factor in current risks. Thus, ZN.ua, recounting calculations by the Kiel Institute for the World Economy, emphasizes that European countries since autumn have tried to scale up their own packages, but “це занадто мало, щоб компенсувати припинення підтримки з боку США” — far too little to compensate for pauses and reductions from Washington. The piece notes that without American air‑defense systems, primarily Patriot, it is difficult for Ukraine to close the gap against ballistic strikes, and any political cycle in the US automatically becomes a factor of military uncertainty for Kyiv. Analyzing recent reports on the structure of aid, Ukrainian experts speak of a “new normal” in which Europe is forced to backstop a declining American share, but candidly admit: without the US the overall volume and range of armaments still remain insufficient to break Russia's strategic initiative. Against this background, columnists draw uncomfortable parallels between Ukraine's dependence on Congressional decisions and earlier examples of US “fatigue” with protracted wars.

Another important theme for Ukraine is the duality of America's role in international justice. Human‑rights outlet ZMINA drew attention to the fact that the US reduced its participation in international mechanisms investigating Russian war crimes, withdrawing from the International Center for the Prosecution of the Crime of Aggression and effectively winding down work in the joint investigative team. In Kyiv's expert community this is perceived not as a renunciation of moral rhetoric but as a signal: even amid statements about “defending the world order,” Washington still tightly meters its involvement in formal legal formats, especially where a precedent could be dangerous for the US itself in future. Lawyers explain to readers that for Washington the political, rather than judicial, line of pressure on Moscow remains key — sanctions, export controls, support for the Ukrainian army, not the construction of universal accountability mechanisms. In Ukrainian discourse this evokes mixed feelings: on one hand, without American political and military support the current level of resistance would not exist; on the other, suspicion grows that the US acts here primarily out of its own interests and fears rather than from the logic of universal justice.

The South African agenda in recent days portrays America primarily as a complicated but necessary partner, with whom relations underwent serious cooling and now require a manual reset. AP and South African commentators analyze in detail the appointment of veteran negotiator from the end of apartheid Rolf Meyer as South Africa’s new ambassador to the US, openly calling the move an attempt at “detente” after a period of acute mutual irritation. Analysts recall that in recent years Washington and Pretoria have too often found themselves on opposite sides of key international divides — from votes on Ukraine at the UN and the participation of the South African navy in exercises with Russia and China to US accusations that South Africa was covertly providing military assistance to Moscow. Against this backdrop, choosing a figure associated with the peace negotiations at the end of apartheid is read as a symbolic gesture: the ruling party is trying to send to Washington a person for whom dialogue with a strong and suspicious partner is a professional biography.

South African commentators stress that the new ambassador will have to explain to the American administration Pretoria's much more multipolar worldview. For the local audience the US is the most important trading and investment partner, a source of technology and a market for South African goods under the AGOA preferences regime, but it is not the only external center of power. Columns cautiously but consistently state: Washington must get used to South Africa not intending to become a compliant element of an “anti‑Russian coalition” and will balance its ties with Russia, China and the West based on its own notions of a just international order. The fact that the reset process itself was initiated by the South African side through a personnel decision is interpreted as a sign that the elite nonetheless fears losses from a prolonged quarrel with America — and above all a possible review of trade preferences by the US Congress.

The Japanese discussion of America noticeably differs in tone and theme. Here the top priority is not Ukraine or South African diplomatic subtleties, but security issues in Japan’s own region, where the US serves as the main, and often the only, guarantor of deterrence against China and North Korea. In a recent episode of the program “日曜スクープ” on BS Asahi, experts discussed the escalation in the Middle East and US‑Iran tensions, but did so through the prism of Japan's vulnerability: any escalation involving the US in the Persian Gulf immediately affects the country's energy security and how ready Washington is to focus on the Asian direction. Tsugita Hiroki, former head of the international information department at the major Kyodo news agency, explained to the audience that American foreign policy, despite rhetorical shifts, remains a policy of allocating limited resources, and if the White House becomes mired in yet another Middle East crisis, Tokyo will be forced to think about strengthening itself.

This leads to domestic Japanese debates about rising military spending: recent news digests note that the defense budget for fiscal 2026 reached a historically high ¥10.6 trillion, but still falls short of the prime minister’s stated goal of 2% of GDP, remaining around 1.9%. This is discussed not separately from the US but as part of a broader reassessment of the bilateral alliance: Japanese society is gradually getting used to the idea that dependence solely on the American “nuclear umbrella” in an era of growing Chinese power and unpredictability in American policy is dangerous. Commentators emphasize: the alliance with Washington is vital, but it can no longer serve as justification for not developing Japan's own means of deterrence. At the same time, Japanese experts closely follow internal American debates — from Congressional disputes over spending on Ukraine to polarization around Taiwan — treating all of this as indicators of how reliable the American umbrella will be in ten to fifteen years.

A common theme uniting Ukraine, South Africa and Japan is less a question of being “for” or “against” America than skepticism about its long‑term predictability. In Kyiv this manifests as anxiety over any pause in weapons deliveries and painful attention to US domestic political conflicts: Ukrainian authors carefully recount scandals and sharp quarrels between Washington and Kyiv, seeing in them not just diplomatic episodes but threats to the country's existence. South African commentators, by contrast, speak of the need to build relations with the US in such a way that a change of administration in Washington will not each time lead to a revision of the entire spectrum of ties — from trade to military cooperation. In Japanese discussions the refrain increasingly heard is that an American ally, even while remaining key, cannot be the sole pillar in a world where US domestic politics itself becomes a source of foreign‑policy zigzags.

Local contexts, however, make the tones very different. For Ukraine America is simultaneously a “senior ally” and an object of painful dependence; any doubt about the volume of aid is perceived as a personal threat. For South Africa the US is a major but one of several global partners, with whom one must conduct a complex dialogue about equality and respect for the Global South. For Japan Washington remains the central pillar of the entire security architecture, but precisely for that reason Japanese analysis looks closely for signs of US fatigue and isolationism in American policy, trying to incorporate them early into its own strategies.

Putting all these fragments together reveals a paradoxical picture: in none of the three countries is there a serious discussion about a “world without America” — on the contrary, the whole argument revolves around how to adapt to a world with America, which increasingly operates in a mode of selective engagement, measuring every step by domestic costs and electoral advantage. In that sense, Ukrainian anxieties, South African attempts at balancing and Japanese calculations on the defense budget are three different but complementary reactions to the same reality: the United States remains indispensable, but has long ceased to be uncontroversial.

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How the world sees America today: Iran war, "unreliable ally" and new technology...

Around the United States today a rare density of commentary and anxiety is forming: from Canberra to Moscow and Seoul the debate is not about whether the US matters, but about how dangerous its foreign policy is becoming, whether one can still rely on Washington as a nuclear and economic umbrella, and how to protect oneself from American decisions on trade, security and technology. The prompt for this new wave of discussion was the US and Israeli war against Iran, launched on 28 February 2026 with massive strikes against Iranian leadership and infrastructure, as well as the combination of a tough tariff and sanctions policy in Washington with attempts to cement technological leadership through access to rare earths and semiconductors. Against this backdrop Australia is debating how to “insulate itself from the US,” Russia is using the Iranian crisis and the Ukraine agenda to bolster a narrative of American “destructive hegemony,” and South Korea is balancing its military dependence on Washington with growing vulnerability to Washington’s strategic games on technology and containing China.

The central theme around which these national debates intertwine is the 2026 Iran war. The US and Israeli airstrikes on Iran, which resulted in the death of the supreme leader and large numbers of state and civilian sites, have already become the subject of separate analyses of different countries’ reactions, and the escalation itself is described as a “major and ongoing operation” to prevent an Iranian threat, in Donald Trump’s wording. In American discourse this is presented as protection of the international order and freedom of navigation, but in Europe and beyond the language of “regime‑change operation” and “a war imposed on allies” is increasingly heard. A detailed review of international reactions shows how quickly the war became a test not only for Iran but for the structure of US alliances and trust in Washington as a rational actor. This is also evident in the systematic international assessment of the conflict in the summary review “Reaction to the conflict in Iran in 2026,” which records both European leaders’ statements of “deep concern” and calls for restraint, and a surge of cynical takes in the Western information space, calling the war a “distraction operation” from domestic scandals in the US (ru.wikipedia.org).

The Australian perspective stands out because the Iran war overlays a painful conversation about the future of the alliance with the US. For Canberra, American actions in the Middle East are not abstract geopolitics but a practical question: will another “regime‑change operation” drag Australia into yet another protracted conflict, as happened in Iraq and Afghanistan? In the analysis “Australia and the 2026 Iran war” it is emphasized that Australia’s participation in the American operation sparked sharp controversy: Green Party leader Larissa Waters called support for the US effectively dragging the country into another “endless US‑led war” and accused the government of once again following Washington without serious public debate. Australians remember well how public opinion turned against previous US military adventures, and recent poll data show that only 16% of Australians consider a second Trump term “good for Australia,” as noted by former diplomat and ex‑chief of staff to the prime minister John Menadue in his piece “Plan B: insulating ourselves from the US” (en.wikipedia.org).

Menadue, a veteran of Australia’s foreign policy bureaucracy, writes bluntly that the US is becoming ever more “capricious and unreliable,” and therefore Australia needs to “insulate itself” — not by breaking with America, but by strengthening regional ties, reviewing defense policy and gradually reducing strategic dependence on Washington. He draws on research from the Australian Institute and the United States Studies Centre showing a sharp decline in trust in American leadership, especially in Washington’s ability to act predictably and not use allies as instruments in its domestic political games. One USSC analytical report explicitly points out that recent US tariff policy “shocked foreign governments and markets,” and that US‑China trade rivalry will only intensify by 2026, creating a risk for Australia of being caught between two fires (ussc.edu.au).

Against this background Canberra’s official strategic discourse tries to reassure the public but is changing too. The recently published National Defence Strategy 2026, analyzed by the Australian strategic center ASPI in the piece “NDS 2026 – The Australia‑US Alliance: the art of dealing with a great power,” effectively becomes an attempt to “retune” relations with the “great ally” without severing them. The author notes the strategy clearly responds to a growing chorus in society demanding a “fundamentally independent” foreign and defense policy, but ultimately only redefines the art of “dealing with a great power,” the alliance with which remains the cornerstone of Australia’s security. The text contains a sober warning: if the Trump administration intensifies a foreign policy course harmful to Australia’s and other liberal democracies’ interests, allies will have to think less about short‑term “survival under Trump” and more about long‑term management of relations with “our closest ally that does not share all our principles” (aspistrategist.org.au).

The Iran war only amplified these doubts. Australian pacifist and anti‑nuclear initiatives, like the Antinuclear platform, remind that the country once saw its shield not in the American “umbrella” but in a rules‑based order and the UN. In a 16 April 2026 text anti‑nuclear activists criticize the recent US approval to sell Australia nearly five hundred AIM‑260A missiles worth about $3.16 billion and recall Australia’s earlier diplomatic line: as a “middle‑power” whose best defense is rules, not the will of the strongest. In the new reality, the authors warn, Australia risks becoming a “client” in a world where the strongest sets the agenda, and the Iran war becomes an example of the consequences of such a security architecture (antinuclear.net).

The Russian discourse on the US, by contrast, uses the Iranian crisis, trade wars and the Ukraine agenda to confirm a long‑constructed Moscow narrative about American “destructive hegemony.” A comprehensive article “Reaction to the conflict in Iran in 2026” in the Russian segment of the internet systematizes not only official statements but also satirical reactions from Trump critics both in the US and Europe, noting the appearance on social media of expressions like “Epstein War” and “Operation ‘Epstein’s Fury’” — thinly veiled hints that the military campaign is meant to distract from investigations related to financier Jeffrey Epstein. For a Russian audience such details work as an argument: even within the US broad circles see Trump’s foreign policy as a tool of domestic political manipulation rather than strategic planning (ru.wikipedia.org).

At the same time, Russian political and quasi‑political media and academic publications continue efforts to dismantle American “moral superiority.” An example is a detailed critique in Russian of The New York Times’ positions on regime change in Venezuela hosted on the World Socialist Web Site. The author accuses influential conservative columnist Bret Stephens of “never having met a US aggressive war he didn’t like,” from Iraq to Venezuela, and reproaches him for simultaneously defending Israeli actions in Gaza while ignoring accusations of genocide. For a Russian audience this is woven into the broader thesis: the American mainstream justifies violence when it comes from the US and its allies, and therefore has no moral right to judge Russian policy (wsws.org).

A similar approach is used in discussions of US initiatives on Ukraine. Publications about a “US peace plan project for Ukraine” emphasize that Washington views the conflict not only as a European security issue but as a platform for long‑term economic expansion: the leaked document devotes considerable space to creating funds and agreements on energy, infrastructure, artificial intelligence and extraction of rare earth metals in the Arctic. Commentators in Russian‑language media read this as an “economic protectorate disguised as peace,” arguing that under rhetoric of “reconstruction” and “shared development” there is an attempt to lock in US dominance in the post‑conflict order of Eastern Europe and in new supply chains for critically important resources (rus.lsm.lv).

The South Korean perspective in recent months has been less loudly voiced in major newspapers as frontal criticism of the US, but a close reading of Korean materials shows rising tension where American containment strategy, the technology race and semiconductor supply‑chain security intersect. Official Seoul remains tightly tied to the US on security: from missile defense systems to naval cooperation in the region and participation in American initiatives to deter North Korea. But in Korea’s expert community there is growing discussion that US export‑control policy on chips and equipment effectively forces South Korea to take Washington’s side against China, risking loss of one of its largest markets.

An additional layer is created by debates at technological forums and initiatives like “AI Seoul 2026,” where Korean scientists who are members of American professional AI associations appear. There the ambiguity is evident: on the one hand the US remains a key scientific and technological hub, and membership in American societies like AAAI is a status symbol for Korean researchers; on the other hand, the question is increasingly raised about how safe it is to build an innovation architecture so tightly tied to American standards, platforms and export control. Organizers and speakers at such events directly speak of the need for South Korea “not to become a hostage of other peoples’ tech wars” and to develop its own agenda in AI and semiconductors, although publicly this is so far phrased gently, in terms of “diversifying partnerships” and “strategic autonomy” (aiseoul2026.com).

The topic of critical minerals is another knot where the interests of Australia, Russia, South Korea and the US are especially tightly intertwined. The agreement signed by Donald Trump and Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese on 21 October 2025 envisages deeper cooperation on rare earths and other resources for clean energy and high‑tech military production. In March 2026 a similar agreement was signed between the US and Chile. For Australia this is simultaneously an opportunity and a risk: on one hand, increased investment and demand; on the other, concern that the country will be integrated into American global chains as a raw‑material appendage while value added and technological control remain in the US. For Russia such deals signal that Washington seeks to control alternative sources of raw materials to reduce Western economies’ vulnerability to Russian and Chinese supplies. In Russian expert discourse this is interpreted as “resource militarization” of the American economy, where each new rare‑earth deal is a “brick” in a wall of economic and military pressure on Moscow and Beijing. Korean analysts view this through the prism of supply chains for their chipmakers: when the US simultaneously pressures China with sanctions and reserves access to key raw materials via Australia and Latin American countries, Seoul finds itself in a difficult position, forced to navigate between American demands and the Chinese market (en.wikipedia.org).

Finally, an important though less visible layer is the awareness of how American domestic politics and information wars project outward. In both Russian and Australian expert fields studies are readily cited that show how the American information space is susceptible to manipulation, including with participation of foreign actors. Research on framing of Russia in American media and campaigns to spread “junk news” among servicemembers and veterans in the US are used to show that American society is not only not immune to propaganda but itself has become a battlefield over the interpretation of war, sanctions and alliance obligations. For critics of Washington in Moscow this serves as an argument that American narratives about “freedom” and “objective press” are instruments of policy, not neutral mirrors, while for Australian and Korean analysts it is a worrying signal: alliance with the US no longer guarantees predictability if domestic polarization and information campaigns can push Washington to abrupt external moves (arxiv.org).

Taken together, all this paints a very ambiguous international image for the US. In Australia the country is still perceived as a “necessary evil” — an indispensable military partner but an increasingly toxic political and economic risk from which one must “insure” oneself through regional integration and development of one’s own capabilities. In Russia the US is entrenched as the main source of instability, whose military operations — from Iran to potential scenarios in Venezuela and Ukraine — are described as a hybrid of domestic political struggle and external expansion, and whose language of “law” and “democracy” is a rhetorical cover. In South Korea, where open anti‑American rhetoric is much less in demand, a subtler but no less important discussion is growing: how to live in a world where security, technology and raw materials are increasingly tied to decisions in Washington, and the Iran war and resource deals show that those decisions are increasingly made with an eye to short‑term gains and domestic politics.

American power has not disappeared; on the contrary, it is precisely that power that makes the US the focal point of these national anxieties. But in three very different societies — liberal Australia, authoritarian Russia and high‑tech yet vulnerable South Korea — the same thought is growing louder: alliance with the US and integration into the American order are no longer unambiguously beneficial. They are now complex risk management, where every new war, tariff package or tech deal immediately triggers a wave of questions: what price will have to be paid and can a country afford to remain in a position where the answer to that question depends not on itself.

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How the US War with Iran Is Changing the World: Views from Riyadh, Seoul and Canberra

When the United States and Israel launched massive strikes on Iran in late February 2026, and Washington then moved to a naval blockade of its ports and the Strait of Hormuz, allied responses were far from uniform. Within weeks it became clear that the new US war in the Middle East was not only another episode of American use of force, but also a serious test of trust in Washington, perceptions of security and economic resilience in countries accustomed to seeing themselves as American partners. This is especially evident in Saudi Arabia, South Korea and Australia — three states for which the US is simultaneously a security guarantor and a growing source of anxiety.

The Saudi–American alliance is operating in a dual mode. On one hand, the US and Israeli campaign against Iran has once again underlined how much the kingdom depends on the American military umbrella and intelligence. Saudi air defenses have already intercepted missiles headed toward the international airport near Riyadh, where US forces are stationed, and Riyadh was forced to publicly explain that American bases are used “only for defensive purposes.” That is an important nuance: the kingdom seeks to show both its population and Iran that it is not becoming a springboard for offensive operations, but is merely defending its territory and infrastructure. In March comments, the Saudi Foreign Ministry emphasized the kingdom’s right to prevent aggression and defend sovereignty, while also offering a clear hint to Tehran: “it will lose the most” in the event of further escalation, whereas the Gulf states need to preserve trade flows and internal stability. (newsru.co.il)

The economic angle in Saudi media discussions about the US is no less important than the military one. In an Okaz newspaper piece about investigations into dubious deals worth billions on the American oil and stock markets, several threads run together: record growth in US oil and petroleum exports caused by disruptions to Middle Eastern supplies due to the war; a sharp rise in prices; and concern about how this will affect Gulf states’ budgets. The author directly links increased demand for American oil to the US–Israeli campaign against Iran and states that the market is forced to seek alternatives to volumes that previously passed through Hormuz. (okaz.com.sa) Implicitly, this is a signal: by launching the war, Washington is simultaneously expanding its export positions, while the Gulf monarchies are forced to balance rising prices against the risk of destabilization.

The longer the conflict continues, the stronger the sense of fatigue with being a hostage to others’ strategies becomes in the Saudi press and expert columns. Regional discussions feature a familiar theme: the US presents itself as a guarantor of freedom of navigation and “international order,” but it is US actions, together with Israel’s, that led to missile strikes on US bases in Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and the UAE and to subsequent Iranian threats to disrupt trade through Hormuz. (ru.wikipedia.org) Hence Riyadh’s attempt to simultaneously demonstrate loyalty to Washington and build autonomy: from raising oil prices for Asian buyers to strengthening military planning in case the American umbrella proves less reliable than advertised. Saudi discourse on the US in 2026 is not a conversation about switching sides, but a painful search for a formula under which the kingdom remains an ally without automatically becoming a co-participant in every American adventure against Iran.

In South Korea, the US war with Iran thousands of kilometers from the Korean Peninsula is perceived not as a remote episode, but as a stress test of a fundamental question: how “ironclad” is the American umbrella in Asia if the Pentagon must divert limited resources to a new front. Arguably the most nervous and substantive debate about the US is happening here. The new 2026 US National Defense Strategy states that South Korea “is capable of taking primary responsibility for deterring North Korea with critically important but more limited US support.” For American strategists, this is the language of “fairer burden-sharing” and freeing resources to compete with China, but for South Korean analysts the wording sounds like a warning: Washington is preparing a qualitative shift in the ally’s role — from a direct shield to a more distant insurance. (thebulletin.org)

The war with Iran instantly turned these abstract formulas into concrete risks. South Korean media and think tanks are discussing reports that the US is considering or already transferring elements of THAAD missile defense and Patriot batteries from Korean territory to the Middle East, as well as possible rotations of other high-tech systems. (defensenews.com) At joint command briefings, US and ROK generals try to reassure reporters, saying the war with Iran will not affect the Freedom Shield exercises and key elements of the peninsula’s defenses. One American commander emphasizes that the alliance must be “strengthened here and now and not allow itself to be drawn into something else,” explicitly stating that operational planning in Asia should not be turned into bargaining material for Washington’s “global flexibility.” (stripes.com)

Nevertheless, another emphasis is growing in the Korean analytical community — from the Asan Institute to the International Council on Korean Studies: the war with Iran has become an “economic and strategic shock” for Seoul. Foreign and Korean reports note rising energy prices, blows to shipping companies including major Korean tanker operators, and a general inflationary wave. (realty.chosun.com) In a LinkedIn column for the International Council on Korean Studies, the war is described as a factor that “forced Seoul to expand its crisis package from shipping diplomacy to broader economic mitigation measures” and at the same time “crystallized sharper concerns in Korean commentary about the quality of American strategic decision-making,” even while maintaining the alliance as a “central pillar of survival.” (linkedin.com)

South Korea’s public debate is particularly interesting for its double meaning. On one side, polls and analysis emphasize that the majority of the population still views the alliance with the US as vital, and skepticism toward Washington does not automatically turn into pro-Russian or pro-Chinese sentiment. On the other hand, expert articles and columns increasingly raise “red lines”: if American strategy is interpreted as a gradual withdrawal of the “umbrella” from Asia in favor of confronting Iran and other fronts, domestic discussion about independent nuclear capabilities, deeper regional cooperation without the US, and a reassessment of the role of American troops on the peninsula will gain legitimacy. Pieces in Modern Diplomacy and analytical reports remind readers that the experience of 2026 should push Seoul to invest in multi-tiered air defenses, strategic fuel and food reserves, and infrastructure “for a Hormuz scenario in the Indo-Pacific region,” should American resources be drawn elsewhere. (moderndiplomacy.eu)

Australia’s debate about the US today is among the most emotional and politicized. From the start of the war in Iran, Canberra has sought to emphasize that “Australia is not a party to the conflict,” as former chief of the defence force Admiral Chris Barrie reminded in a column for Guardian Australia, where he sharply criticized the US and Israel’s decision to launch a “large-scale war against a sovereign state during active diplomatic negotiations and without consulting major allies.” (theguardian.com) Yet geography and alliance obligations do not allow Australia to remain a detached observer.

The economic hit is acute: the US-declared naval blockade of Iran and the effective stoppage of traffic through the Strait of Hormuz triggered a spike in global fuel prices. The Australian government was forced to subsidize purchases of expensive fuel for two companies and cut petrol taxes to soften the blow to households, according to local media and international agencies. (apnews.com) Treasurer Jim Chalmers described the situation as a “dangerous moment” and warned that even a rapid ceasefire would not erase long-term economic consequences — a phrase that became a leitmotif of many analyses about Australia’s dependence on vulnerable sea lanes. (theguardian.com)

At the strategic level, Australia, like South Korea, suddenly sees American actions as both a guarantor and a source of risk. Defence Minister Richard Marles, presenting an updated defence strategy and announcing plans to raise defence spending to 3% of GDP by 2033, directly linked this to the claim that “Australia’s security circumstances have become the most complex and threatening since World War II” and that the war in Iran “has greatly complicated the global strategic landscape.” Marles’s evasive answer to how much more dangerous the situation had become after US and Israeli strikes on Iran was telling: “I don’t think anyone can honestly answer that question.” (ksat.com) In this uncertainty many Australian commentators saw an admission: the alliance with the US simultaneously increases the threats that draw the country in.

How exactly Australia becomes entangled in American wars has become a fierce political battleground. Left‑of‑center The Saturday Paper and analysis from groups like the Australia Institute directly link AUKUS to the risk of “dragging Australia into a US and Israeli war with Iran” and, prospectively, into conflict with China. In an Australia Institute report, AUKUS is described as a mechanism that ties Australia to the American military machine and deprives it of real choice in the event of escalation around Taiwan or in the Persian Gulf. (australiainstitute.org.au) Party political and public debate feature stronger formulations: socialist and anti-war groups write that AUKUS “makes Australia a military appendage of the US” and “binds it to an unpredictable leader,” while users on popular forums and Reddit discuss whether Pine Gap — the Australian satellite intelligence center heavily used by the US — will become a target precisely because it is involved in operations against Iran. (wsws.org)

At the same time, the government’s official line remains traditionally pro-American. Ministers stress support for the US-declared “mission to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons” and speak of the need to protect international law and freedom of navigation, while insisting Australia will make an independent decision if Washington requests military support in the Persian Gulf. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese emphasizes that the US declared the Hormuz blockade “unilaterally,” and reiterates that Australia stands for the strait being open to all ships. (apnews.com) In this balancing act — supporting an ally without automatically joining its war — a broader trend is visible: Canberra wants to retain the dividends of the alliance, but is increasingly unwilling to share responsibility for decisions it deems strategically short-sighted.

Despite differences in political systems and regional threats, the reactions of Saudi Arabia, South Korea and Australia to the current US war with Iran are strikingly consonant on key themes. The first is the sense that Washington is increasingly making momentous decisions without serious consultations with allies. Australian critics emphasize that strikes on Iran were launched “without consulting major allies” and in the midst of ongoing negotiations, undermining diplomatic efforts, including by countries that invested political capital in finding a compromise. (theguardian.com) Saudi and Korean commentators point to a similar problem more gently: allies are forced to “manage the consequences” of American decisions — whether Iranian missile strikes on US bases in the Gulf or soaring energy prices that hit fuel imports into Seoul and Canberra.

The second common theme is concern about the redistribution of US military resources. For Seoul, the question of redeploying missile defense systems and elements of missile shields is existential: any “temporary” relocation is viewed through the prism of the North Korean threat and painfully reminds them that in Washington’s eyes Iran, China and global defense may be more important at a critical moment than guarantees to one specific country. (defensenews.com) For Australia the same issue appears differently: debates about AUKUS and the deployment of US forces are colored by the question of whether Australian ports, bases and intelligence centers — from Darwin to Pine Gap — will automatically be listed as targets in future US wars, whether with Iran or China. Saudi Arabia, for its part, demonstratively stresses that US bases on its territory are defensive in nature, but the fact remains: the US military presence makes the kingdom one of the first potential targets for Iran in the event of further escalation. (newsru.co.il)

The third intersecting motif is the economic vulnerability of allies to conflicts they did not initiate. For Saudi Arabia the war creates a paradoxical situation: on the one hand, high oil prices and disruptions through Hormuz strengthen OPEC’s price power and potentially increase oil revenues; on the other hand, sudden shocks and threats to infrastructure undermine long-term diversification and resilience strategies. For Korea and Australia, as energy importers and exporters dependent on sea lanes, the US war with Iran served as a reminder that freedom of navigation is not an abstract principle but the foundation of their economic model; and that the party who claims to guarantee it is capable, through its actions, of making transport arteries impassable. (en.wikipedia.org)

Finally, in each of the three countries the war has intensified long‑standing talks about the need for a “Plan B” in relations with the US. In Saudi Arabia this is playing out as an accelerated diversification of partners — from deepening ties with China to quiet formats of dialogue with Iran, albeit against the backdrop of current escalation. In South Korea it has turned into more candid debates about how far the notion of “limited US support” can go and when discussion of an independent nuclear option might shift from taboo to serious policy. In Australia it has sparked initiatives to review or even scrap AUKUS, demands for parliamentary inquiries into how deeply the country should be embedded in the American military machine, and a readiness among parts of society to discuss a scenario of a “less close” alliance with Washington in favor of a more multi-vector regional policy. (stimson.org)

That these discussions are unfolding almost entirely in Arabic, Korean and Australia’s domestic press explains why from Washington the world may still seem familiar: allies formally remain in place, bases function, official statements reaffirm “steadfast commitment to alliances.” But local voices — from Saudi economic commentators to South Korean security specialists and retired Australian military leaders — paint a more complex picture. In it, the US remains a necessary partner, but no longer an unquestioned leader; a guarantor, but also a source of risk; a power from which people expect not only strength but restraint. And how Washington chooses to heed these fissures — or ignore them — will determine whether the 2026 war becomes just another episode in a long string of conflicts or a turning point in the evolution of American alliances.

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How the US–Israel War with Iran Changes Views in Australia, South Korea and Ukraine

On the surface, the current war by the United States and Israel against Iran looks like another round of a Middle Eastern conflict. But seen from Australia, South Korea or Ukraine, America in this story is not just a warring superpower, but also a security partner, an economic anchor and simultaneously a source of growing risks. In these countries today the discussion is not about abstract “anti‑Americanism,” but much more concrete questions: can the US still be relied on as a security guarantor, who pays the real price for the “operation to contain Iran,” and what to do if Washington begins to demand too high a political price for its support.

The first and most emotional layer of the debate is directly related to the war in Iran. In Australia major outlets and experts argue about whether Washington is dragging the country into yet another “foreign” war. Commentators in The Guardian Australia remind readers that Australia is already de facto involved by allowing American facilities like the Pine Gap base to be used to guide strikes against Iran: international law lawyers call participation in such a campaign “support for illegal aggression” and warn that it would be “the worst thing Australia could do” from the standpoint of law and national reputation. As the Guardian piece notes, Foreign Minister Penny Wong publicly supported US strikes, saying Australia “supports actions to prevent Iran from obtaining nuclear weapons,” and that statement provoked a wave of academic and opposition criticism that sees such a course as subordinating national interests to the logic of the American war machine.

At the same time, center‑left and progressive platforms in Australia, such as The Saturday Paper and analytical commentary from the Australian Institute of International Affairs, discuss the war as a “maturity test” for the alliance with the US. In the article “Iran a catalyst for decoupling” in The Saturday Paper the author explicitly calls the conflict a catalyst for “reconsidering the American alliance”: the war has shown that Washington is no longer always capable of achieving stated goals, yet expects automatic loyalty from allies. The Australian Institute of International Affairs, in its analysis, emphasizes that the Iran war under Trump turns Western alliances into “conditional cooperation,” where each country increasingly acts from its own interests rather than abstract “Atlantic solidarity.”

Meanwhile Canberra’s official line remains predictably pro‑American. Defense Minister Richard Marles, explaining a sharp increase in the defense budget and a new strategy, speaks plainly that “alliances, especially with the United States, will always be fundamental to Australia’s defense” and that the spending increase is explained by “the most complex and dangerous strategic conditions since World War II,” including the war in Iran. The updated strategy, according to international agencies and The Washington Post, explicitly ties Australia’s defense course to the consequences of the Iranian campaign and to the need for closer integration with American forces amid instability.

However, beneath this official consensus a noticeable public discontent is growing: polling data cited by both the Guardian and Australian left‑wing outlets show that only about a quarter of Australians approve of the US and Israeli war against Iran. Issues of the left‑socialist press, like the magazine Solidarity, openly call for the need to “break the military alliance with the US,” and describe the war in Iran as yet another “endless American war” into which Australia is being “dragged by deception and in secret,” through AUKUS agreements and the expansion of the US military presence in the country. For these circles the war is a reason to talk not only about Iran but about the structure of Australia’s foreign policy itself, where the role of the US seems excessive and dangerous.

Similar motifs — but with Korean specifics — appear in South Korea. There the US–Israel war with Iran is discussed primarily through the lens of the economy and vulnerability. In an editorial in Maeil Kyungje it is emphasized that, according to IEA head Fatih Birol, the current Iran war is “a more serious global crisis than the oil shocks of the 1970s, the COVID‑19 pandemic and the war in Ukraine combined”; Korean authors note that in addition to rising oil and gas prices there is destruction of energy and transport infrastructure, meaning the consequences will be felt “for months, if not years.” The Bank of Korea’s decision to keep rates unchanged is explained precisely by “instability in the exchange rate, inflation and growth” due to the American‑Iranian conflict.

In economic commentary and analysis published by Korean business media, it is directly stated that “Trump’s war” in Iran is hitting the American economy itself: a spike in oil prices above $110 per barrel and rising gasoline costs threaten to undermine consumer demand in the US, which, Korean analysts warn, almost automatically translates into reduced demand for Korean exports — from cars to electronics. The authors warn that the longer high oil prices delay Federal Reserve rate cuts, the worse the consequences will be for Korean households and corporations.

The political dimension appeared when Donald Trump, in his speeches, openly named South Korea among countries that “did not help” in the war and threatened to redeploy American troops in favor of more “loyal” allies. This provoked a lively reaction in the Korean media space: bloggers and commentators noted that Seoul has found itself “facing a huge wall” — on the one hand, security on the peninsula traditionally depends on the US; on the other, involvement in a Middle Eastern adventure raises fear of being pulled into a conflict that does not directly concern Korea but could destabilize its economy and relations with Iran and Arab states.

Korean think tanks and business media in their reviews emphasize that the country is especially sensitive to any shocks in the Middle East because it heavily depends on imported Middle Eastern oil. In one analytical piece experts state outright that even a quick US‑Iran deal would not return the situation to the previous status quo: unless the deep confrontation between Washington, Tehran and Israel is removed, new shocks will recur. At the same time, in a special Gallup International survey published a few days ago, it is noted that South Korean society does not tend to unambiguously take either the US–Israel or Iran side: many respondents choose “I support neither side,” while a significant portion expects “substantial personal economic harm” but does not believe in a quick victory or regime change in Tehran.

Parallel to this, there is growing demand in the Korean public sphere for strategic autonomy. University and analytical publications devoted to a “strategy of a strong state” and the role of the US in Korea’s economy and security discuss how the country should structure its ties with the US to minimize the risk of “automatic” involvement in their conflicts. But unlike in Australia, these conversations in Korea are less anti‑alliance: the key idea is not to break the alliance, but to learn to assert the boundaries of participation and to strengthen Korea’s own military and economic potential.

If for Australia and Korea the Iran war is primarily a test of the alliance and an economic shock, for Ukraine the main American storyline remains assistance in the war with Russia — now set against competition from the Middle Eastern front for Washington’s attention and resources. Ukrainian media and analytic centers in recent months increasingly discuss “US fatigue” with the Ukrainian direction and possible cuts in military and financial support. A TSN piece asks directly: “Can Ukraine hold out without large‑scale support from Washington? And who can replace the US in this war?” The authors describe searches for alternatives in Europe and an emphasis on using domestic unmanned technologies and satellite intelligence to compensate for delays in American deliveries.

Ukrainian experts and specialized journalists dissect the structure of American aid in detail, showing that a significant portion of appropriations from aid packages actually remains in the US — going to replenish Pentagon stockpiles, support American troops in Europe and orders for weapons from domestic manufacturers. Ukrainskyi Tyzhden publishes an analysis according to which not all of the multibillion packages reaches the Ukrainian army as direct deliveries: some funds strengthen US and NATO military infrastructure in Europe, which on one hand bolsters deterrence against Russia, but on the other highlights that Washington acts primarily in the interest of its own and allied security in general, not only Kyiv.

Particularly painful in Ukrainian discourse are reports from Politico and other Western media that US representatives in informal talks allegedly insist that Ukraine “in some form give up” Donbas as part of a peace deal. Ukrainian outlets like Radio Svoboda relay these reports and Kyiv’s reaction: Ukrainian officials try to explain that “giving Putin what he could not achieve in three years of war would only encourage further conquests.” This storyline reinforces the perception of America as a partner with whom one must constantly bargain and whom one cannot trust blindly, even if it remains a key donor of weapons and money.

Against this backdrop Ukrainian politicians and experts still publicly emphasize gratitude to the US, but more often add caveats about the “need to diversify sources of support.” In analysis on the year after cuts to US external humanitarian assistance prepared by international organizations, the Ukrainian version of the report stresses that the winding down of American programs hits vulnerable regions and increases internal social risks. The mere existence of such a report becomes part of the debate in Ukraine about America’s reliability: if humanitarian programs are easily reduced, might similar cuts occur in military or financial support?

Common themes run through all three countries. First, a deterioration in the quality of the alliance with the US: from “sacred” to “conditional.” Australian commentators speak of the war in Iran as a “catalyst for distancing” from Washington, and international relations analysts stress that the US alliance is becoming more pragmatic, where allies are ready to say “no” to operations that contradict their interests. In South Korea the same trend is described as the need to “better define the boundaries of participation” and not allow external pressure to completely subordinate Korean foreign policy to the American agenda — even when it comes to a vital military alliance. In Ukraine, despite dependence on the US, the message is increasingly that Washington is the most important but not the only pillar of security, and that strengthening the European and domestic components is required.

Second, the economic blow to the world from US decisions. In the French press, in a Le Monde column about the war in Iran, it is said that “the conflict is regional, but the crisis is global”: Iran’s closure of the Strait of Hormuz and the US blockade in response lead to a new wave of inflation and threats to growth worldwide. Korean business newspapers essentially convey the same thought: even if the war is formally limited to a few countries, its consequences are boundless. Australian strategists in defense documents cautiously, and alliance activists and critics much more harshly, say that integration into the “US war machine” carries not only military but also economic risks — from higher defense spending to involvement in costly campaigns that do not always serve national interests.

Third, the question of America’s moral authority and the right to set the rules. Former Chief of the Defence Force of Australia Admiral Chris Barrie, in his column for The Guardian, writes that the Iran war “has sharpened both the nuclear and climate threats” and that Australia should help the world “step back from the edge,” not follow Washington thoughtlessly. Ukrainian commentators, comparing US promises on Iran and on Ukraine, conclude that American diplomatic failures in the Middle East complicate the advancement of the Ukrainian agenda: in the eyes of part of the “global South,” Washington appears not as a defender of international law but as a power that applies it selectively. South Korean publications about “war crimes” and violations of international law committed by various US allies in the Middle East quietly but steadily undermine America’s image as a moral leader, especially among younger and more progressive readers.

But within this broad criticism there are important differences. Australia and South Korea can afford to talk about “containing” or “reformatting” the alliance with the US while remaining under its nuclear and military umbrella and not facing direct war on their territory. Ukraine cannot. For it, America is at once a contested political player and the last bulwark against a Russian comeback. Therefore Ukrainian discourse mixes gratitude and anxiety: Kyiv cannot afford to be disappointed in the US the way a hypothetical progressive reader in Melbourne or Seoul might; instead it must constantly persuade Washington that supporting Ukraine is not just a moral duty but an element of deterring broader revisionism, from Moscow to Tehran.

As a result, from Australia, South Korea and Ukraine today America looks not like a monolithic “hegemon,” but like a complex, contradictory partner. On the one hand, it is a state without which it is hard to imagine deterrence of Russia and Iran, the maintenance of the global financial system and military protection of allies in Asia and Oceania. On the other hand, it is a country whose unilateral decisions and unsuccessful wars shift economic and humanitarian costs onto everyone else. This ambivalent perception is becoming a new international consensus: the world no longer wants to be simply an “extension” of American foreign policy, but is also not ready for a world without American power.

Australian protesters demanding “stop the war with Iran and break the military alliance with the US,” Korean economists calculating how many more months the country can withstand expensive oil, and Ukrainian analysts tallying the real volumes of aid and options for peace without capitulation surprisingly often say much the same thing. They are trying to answer the question: how to live in a world where security still largely rests on the US, but faith in its wisdom and responsibility has noticeably weakened. And therein lies the major shift in international perception of America today, not measured in tons of weapons or percentage points of GDP, but already shaping how allies react to every new decision from Washington.

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How the World Sees America Today: Brazil, Japan and Ukraine

With the change of power in Washington and sharp turns in US foreign policy in 2025–2026, international attention to America has become extremely intense again. In Brazil, Japan and Ukraine the debate is not about whether the United States matters, but about what kind of America the world will have to deal with: a superpower guarantor of order, a selfish hegemon, or an increasingly unpredictable partner. Several major themes intersect in the public debates of these three countries: Washington’s new approach to the war in Ukraine, the Trump‑2 administration’s course toward the world and China, the future of NATO and global security, and the domestic crisis of American democracy, which is viewed as a factor of external instability.

One of the most tangible storylines for Ukraine, and through it for other countries, has become a new format of negotiations between Kyiv and Washington on a peace settlement. Ukrainian media closely covered the March meeting of negotiating teams in Florida: on the American side the delegation was headed by the US president’s special representative Steve Whitkoff, who after the first day spoke of “constructive” talks focused on “resolving remaining issues to move closer to a comprehensive peace agreement” (eurointegration.com.ua). In Ukraine such formulations provoke mixed reactions: on the one hand, they confirm that the US remains a key player in any scenario to end the war; on the other, there is concern that a “comprehensive deal” may turn into a package of compromises dictated primarily by domestic American politics. Ukrainian analysts, such as Vadym Denysenko, write directly that in Washington the war in Ukraine is increasingly seen through the prism of a “burden” on the budget and the electorate: in one recent piece he reflects on the logic of the current US administration, which, he argues, bets on external factors and tries to “fit” the Ukrainian issue into a broader bargaining framework with Europe and China, up to exotic plots around Greenland and the potential collapse of the EU (my.ua). For Kyiv this means the battlefield is gradually shifting toward influence on US public opinion and the political class: “our only trump card now is American public opinion and the attitude of the US political establishment toward the war in Ukraine,” Denysenko writes in the same text.

In Japan the same line of American foreign policy is discussed differently, through the prism of the global balance and the US role in Asia. Think tanks and academic circles in Japan are already producing systematic assessments of the new administration in Washington. A research report by the Japan Institute of International Affairs on Trump‑2’s foreign policy describes an updated National Security Strategy that gives the Western Hemisphere an unexpectedly priority position, and explicitly links the document to a “Trumpian interpretation of the Monroe Doctrine” — the idea that America again claims exclusive influence in its region and less involvement in distant conflicts (jiia.or.jp). Japanese authors note that US military intervention in Venezuela, around which global voices of critics, allies and fence‑sitters have been divided, has become a sort of “litmus test” for the new American power in the region. Through this lens Tokyo reads the Ukrainian storyline as well: if Washington is ready for tough unilateral actions in the Western Hemisphere, how far will it go in Eastern Europe and in the Indo‑Pacific?

At the same time, Japanese media and expert discussions debate the transformation of America as a superpower. In a popular dialogue format between journalist Akira Ikegami and former diplomat and intelligence officer Masaru Sato for Money Post, they discuss the “great pivot” of Trump‑2: abandoning the ambition to influence internal politics in China and Russia, betting on deals with authoritarian leaders, and the general “end of the era of superpower America” (moneypost.jp). Sato even warns of a growing risk of political violence and an assassination attempt on the president amid intensifying domestic conflict in the US, and for a Japanese audience this is not a sensation but another argument that relying on Washington as an anchor of stability is becoming harder. In another piece Professor Seiko Mimake of Josai University, an expert on American politics, analyzes “the split within the MAGA movement” and its influence on US policy toward Israel, China and Russia in an interview with Bungei Shunju, stressing that the White House’s foreign policy increasingly becomes hostage to intra‑party Republican battles and the radicalization of part of the electorate (bunshun.jp). For Japanese business and political circles this means that strategy toward the US should be based not on a stable “American course” but on many competing centers of influence inside America itself.

The same theme of the domestic crisis of American democracy and its consequences for the world is actively discussed in Japanese institutional publications. The Japanese Ministry of Finance in a series of analytical essays “American Democracy” describes increasing polarization in the US, the role of the First Amendment in legitimizing marginal and radical forms of political agitation, and the impact of the media ecosystem on trust in elections (mof.go.jp). The authors recall how defamation cases against Fox News by the Dominion company set a precedent, showing that even major media became involved in spreading narratives about election fraud. In the Japanese reading this is not only a legal oddity: it signals the weakness of American institutions on which perceptions of the “gold standard of democracy” were built for decades. That view is then projected onto foreign policy: if the United States itself cannot secure consensus on the legitimacy of elections, how stable are its long‑term international commitments?

The Ukrainian discussion about America, by contrast, is far more practically bound to the question of state survival and direct dependence on decisions in Washington. Ukraine does not just analyze the US — it is literally tied to it in court cases, intelligence reports and strategic documents. In one decision of the Supreme Court of Ukraine in the case of former MP Andriy Derkach, an analytical report of the US National Intelligence Council on Russian interference in the 2020 US elections is directly quoted; judges emphasize that the Kremlin, through such influence agents, tried “to change the foreign policy course of the United States with the aim of weakening support for Ukraine” (zakon.rada.gov.ua). For Ukraine’s legal and political elite this is not an abstract academic example but part of a larger picture: the resilience of American democracy and the US ability to resist foreign interference are seen as a matter of Ukrainian security.

Hence the close reading of any signals about a possible reduction in American engagement. In the English‑language European Pravda last autumn they described concern in Kyiv over statements by US Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, a Trump appointee, who in Brussels spoke against returning Ukraine to its 2014 borders and against its NATO membership (eurointegration.com.ua). In the Ukrainian perception such words are not just the stance of one politician but an indicator of a possible turn of all Washington — and so Ukrainian commentators rightly link them to earlier and subsequent Trump statements about “deals” with Russia and China, ideas about “Greenland,” and pressure on Europe. Darker moods are heard in Ukrainian online debates: forum and social media participants speculate that with a slowing EU growth and faster US economic growth the gap in capacities will only widen, and Ukraine risks “slipping into the background” if Washington decides to bargain with Europe and Beijing, making the Ukrainian issue the subject of backstage compromises (reddit.com).

In recent months Brazil’s debate about the US has been more connected to the regional dimension of American policy and its influence on Latin America than directly to the Ukrainian theater of operations. Still, for Brazilian analysts the new US National Security Strategy, which highlights the Western Hemisphere as a priority region and effectively revives the Monroe Doctrine in updated form, is perceived as a signal: Washington is “returning” to Latin America not only through trade and sanctions but also through forceful options, as seen in the example of intervention in Venezuela, which Japanese and international experts have written about (jiia.or.jp). In this logic the Ukrainian conflict for Brazil is not a central storyline but a test of how far the US is willing to go in unilateral decisions and pressure, and how much it will take into account the position of the Global South, including the BRICS.

Across all three countries another level of discussion about the US emerges — more theoretical, concerning the American model of law and freedom of speech, but in practice closely tied to politics. Ukrainian legal journals publish comparative studies that dissect doctrines of the “marketplace of ideas” and “counter‑speech” in American law, the Brandenburg, Miller and O’Brien tests, and contrast them with the European Court of Human Rights’ “three‑part test” (lsej.org.ua). For Ukrainian lawyers such analysis is not an abstract interest in American doctrine but an attempt to understand how far one can go in restricting pro‑Russian propaganda without destroying one’s own democratic legitimacy, and where exactly in American experience the line between freedom of expression and national security lies. Similar studies in Ukraine are often accompanied by references to American and European documents on sanctions, non‑proliferation and cyber threats, which once again underscores: the US remains the main source of legal and political benchmarks, even when Ukrainian authors criticize or reinterpret that experience (dspace.onu.edu.ua).

A significant topic for the Japanese elite is the economic and technological dimension of the US‑Japan partnership. In Deloitte Tohmatsu’s analysis of “strategic investments by the US and Japan” for 2026, experts view America simultaneously as an “engine” of innovation and as a source of risk for fragmentation of global markets due to sanctions policy and geopolitical competition (faportal.deloitte.jp). Former Washington correspondent for Kyodo, now Meiji University professor Hiroki Sugita, in his essay “The Wind from America: The World of 2026” writes about the emerging “G2” — a de facto duumvirate of the US and China — in which Japan must find a niche between the two giants, cooperating on security with Washington while building economic ties with Beijing (joi.or.jp). In this context America appears not only as a guarantor but also as a source of uncertainty: should Japanese business commit to a long‑term alliance with the US if every four years the American electorate can radically change foreign policy?

Bringing together these multilingual debates, several common motives emerge. First, in all three countries the US remains indispensable but increasingly unpredictable. Ukraine sees Washington as a vital ally whose domestic instability and electoral swings translate directly into questions of war and peace. Japan sees a partner that no longer guarantees policy continuity and increasingly operates on transactional logic even in security matters. The Brazilian and wider Latin American perspective emphasizes the return of an old dilemma: how willing is Washington to respect the agency of regional countries if it again speaks the language of the Monroe Doctrine and forceful interventions.

Second, there is a shift in how these countries read American domestic politics. Whereas most foreign commentary used to be limited to a superficial “Republicans versus Democrats” framing, now Japanese researchers dissect the split within MAGA, Ukrainian courts and analysts cite American intelligence reports and cases of interference in US domestic politics, and lawyers and political scientists in Kyiv and Tokyo closely study US Supreme Court precedents and debates on media responsibility. In this new view America is both a set of legal doctrines and a battleground for interpreting democracy, and an object of foreign influence, not just an “exporter of values.”

Finally, a throughline of cautious pragmatism runs across all three countries. Ukrainian authors, while acknowledging critical dependence on the US, increasingly speak of the need to diversify sources of support and to influence not only the White House but also Congress, states and US civil society. Japanese experts call for avoiding idealization of the trans‑Pacific alliance and for building policies that can survive another change of administration. In Latin America, including Brazil, there is discussion about how to engage Washington without once again becoming the “backyard” of American policy.

These voices — from Kyiv, Tokyo, São Paulo and Brasília — rarely make it into the English‑language agenda, yet they reveal a genuine shift in the world’s perception of the US. America remains the center around which calculations and fears, hopes and accusations revolve, but fewer countries are willing to play the role of passive spectators of the “American drama.” For Ukraine, Japan and Brazil the discussion about the US today is not a commentary on foreign policy; it is part of their own choice of trajectory in a world where Washington is still powerful but no longer the sole author of the script.

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How the US War with Iran Became a Global Test: Views from France, South Africa and...

In mid‑April 2026 the image of the United States abroad is again defined not by domestic politics or elections, but by war. Since February 28, when Donald Trump together with Benjamin Netanyahu launched an offensive against Iran, Washington has been perceived both as the military engine of the conflict and as the chief architect of its consequences for the global economy. Perspectives differ: in France there is talk of an American “oil shock” and a strategy of blockading the Strait of Hormuz; in South Africa the focus is on threats to growth and inflation; in Israel the debate centers on whether the US controls the escalation or has been drawn into its own logical trap. But in all three cases the US is at the center — both as a rule‑setting power and as the source of a growing sense of helplessness among others.

The main theme that unites Paris, Pretoria and Jerusalem is the combination “US and Israeli war against Iran + US‑Iran energy conflict.” The French press writes openly of a “regional war, but a global crisis,” noting that Iran’s blockade of Hormuz, reinforced by a US naval blockade of Iranian ports, is once again triggering inflation and shaking fragile growth in both Europe and the Global South. In an editorial in Le Monde analyzing the war in Iran, a theme recurs: the fighting is limited to three countries, but “the list of collateral victims keeps growing,” and the world is witnessing a “pandemic of powerlessness” — states not participating in the war are practically unable to influence Washington’s and Tehran’s decisions. (lemonde.fr)

In France this “powerlessness” is read primarily through the prism of energy and geopolitics. Francophone media analyze in detail how the US‑announced naval blockade in the Hormuz area on April 13 — a response to Iran’s closure of the strait — is turning into a potential new global oil shock. Le Journal de Montréal emphasizes that the American blockade threatens Asian oil imports above all, while Iran has even managed to increase exports in the first weeks of the war thanks to higher prices. (journaldemontreal.com) Meanwhile TF1 Info explains to French readers how the collapse of US‑Iran negotiations and Trump’s announcement of a blockade of Iranian exports are pushing oil prices up again and what this means for gasoline prices in France. (tf1info.fr)

French think tanks go further, assessing the macro effect: the platform Le Grand Continent points out that a blockade of Hormuz could cost Iran hundreds of millions of dollars a day, but the real shock would hit the global economy, since the volumes at stake are comparable to the two 1970s oil crises combined. (legrandcontinent.eu) At the same time, Europe, Euronews notes, is observing a sharp drop in tanker traffic through Hormuz — from 24 to four ships a day — and is revising Brent price forecasts upward, along with inflation expectations. (fr.euronews.com) In such pieces the US is described both as a rational actor using “blockade as a pressure tool” and as a power ready to permit large-scale economic collateral damage on foreign soil for the sake of tactical advantage.

Against this background French criticism of the specific character of today’s US‑Israeli tandem is especially visible. Le Monde, in the English version of its column, speaks of a “carefree US‑Israeli alliance” acting according to the logic of force and domestic politics, while Iran believes it is fighting an “existential battle.” (lemonde.fr) Between the lines this reads as a reproach to the US: the White House appears too sensitive to domestic political signals to design a long, predictable strategy of de‑escalation, which makes European and southern partners hostages of someone else’s political dynamics.

South Africa views the same conflict mainly through a fuel‑price lens and through an old wound of dependence on Washington’s decisions. South African business press literally counts cents per liter: Business Report describes how the oil price surge caused by the US‑Israel war with Iran increases inflationary risks, calls into question scenarios for interest‑rate cuts, and threatens to weaken South Africa’s already fragile economic growth, which was estimated at just 1.6% for the year. (businessreport.co.za) The portal Scrolla.Africa highlights that the Ministry of Mineral Resources was forced to announce higher prices for petrol and diesel from March 4, and local politicians warn that if the confrontation involving the US, Israel and Iran drags on and oil rises above $110 a barrel, the South African economy may not withstand a new round of fuel price increases. (scrolla.africa)

Some pan‑African publications put this in a broader context. Africanews and African Business write that the US‑Israeli operation against Iran, which has already acquired its own code names in the Western press, is becoming a “price shock” for Africa and risks derailing the last positive trends in several continental economies. Rising oil prices, supply‑chain disruptions and market volatility — driven largely by Washington’s rhetoric and actions — mean higher import costs for importing countries and increase the likelihood that central banks will delay rate cuts. (africanews.com) Interestingly, those same pieces note paradoxical “winners”: gold prices are rising in the face of war, which could benefit Africa’s largest gold producers, including South Africa, but the overall balance for the continent is judged sharply negative and directly linked to American decisions.

A distinct South African note in the conversation about America is the intertwining of the war and Pretoria’s diplomatic conflict with Washington. The appointment in mid‑April of seasoned negotiator Rolf Meyer as South Africa’s ambassador to the US is interpreted by local media as an attempt to ease strained relations with the Trump administration, which had effectively expelled the previous ambassador after his public criticism of the US president and had conspicuously ignored South Africa’s G20 platform. Associated Press reminds readers that against this backdrop the US criticizes South Africa’s ties with Iran and its domestic racial policies, and South Africa’s internal debate about Washington’s “double standards” toward the Global South is only intensifying. (apnews.com) In this frame the US looks like a power that, on the one hand, demands political loyalty on Middle East issues and, on the other, does not hesitate to impose economic and diplomatic punishments on those who choose a more autonomous course.

In Israel, unlike in France and South Africa, the US is discussed primarily not as an external shock‑producer but as the “senior partner” in the shared war. Israeli outlets — from Israel Hayom to business and religious news portals — analyze the White House’s tactical moves in detail. When Trump first announced a broad offensive against Iranian targets and then — after failed talks in Islamabad — a possible naval blockade of Hormuz, local analysts debated whether this was the “trump card” meant to speed an agreement or a dangerous bet that could draw the US and Israel into a prolonged confrontation with unpredictable consequences. Israel Hayom, analyzing Trump’s tweet about a potential naval blockade as an alternative to a “long and dangerous military operation in the Persian Gulf,” notes that the American president had already used lifting sanctions on part of Iranian oil “at sea” to boost global supply but now seemed ready to go to the opposite extreme. (israelhayom.co.il)

For the Israeli public it is especially important who in this configuration “leads” and who “follows.” A column on N12 TV stresses that it was the US, not Israel, that insisted on the ceasefire that took effect on April 8 after forty days of war, despite the clear unwillingness of a significant part of Israeli society to pause. The author concludes that Trump demonstrates he is the dominant player, and the Israeli prime minister, even if privately opposed, is forced to agree with Washington’s decision as a “loyal ally.” This, the commentator argues, refutes conspiracy theories that Israel “dragged” the US into the war. (mako.co.il)

At the same time Israeli think tanks such as INSS keep their own tally: from the earliest mass protests in Iran — during which Trump increased military presence and promised to “help the demonstrators” — to the present moment when, after strikes on nuclear infrastructure and a naval blockade, Washington is nonetheless forced to seek a path to talks. One review stresses that the “window of opportunity” for diplomacy had opened even before the large‑scale attack of June 2025, but the American bet on heavy pressure amid applause from allies led to a situation where any retreat will now be perceived as weakness. (inss.org.il) It is unsurprising that Israeli media closely quote every Trump statement that “the war with Iran is close to over” and every report that Tehran has allegedly initiated new contacts with Washington — these directly affect the sense of security in Israel.

It is interesting how American domestic politics figures in the Israeli debate. The portal Zemaze, analyzing Trump’s April address to the nation on the war with Iran, recounts reactions in the US media: some commentators in the Washington Post, according to the Israeli author, consider the president “psychologically unfit for office” and express shame at how he represents the US on the world stage. (zemaze.co.il) For the Israeli public this matters because the quality of American leadership sets the quality of security guarantees: if the US president is perceived at home as unpredictable, allies must plan for a wider range of scenarios.

All three countries also engage a deeper layer of discussion — about the long‑term role of the US in the world. An Israeli report published on the Shakuf platform reminds readers that a tendency toward liberal interventionism is part of America’s DNA, drawing parallels between the current escalation with Iran and earlier wars, while noting that despite clear signs of erosion in democratic norms within the US, many experts believe it is premature to speak of a “democratic decline” thanks to constitutional architecture and federalism. (shakuf.co.il) In France similar doubts appear as debates over whether the current strategy of “coercive pressure” on Iran and the US readiness to destabilize the global energy market for tactical ends are compatible with the role of a responsible hegemon. South African analysts, for their part, overlay this with their own experience — from apartheid to current disputes with Washington over Palestine and Iran — and ask whether America is becoming a power for which the interests of the Global South are systematically secondary.

The result is a multi‑layered picture. For the French, the US today is above all the architect of the Hormuz blockade and the source of a new wave of energy instability, while Europe has practically no levers to influence Washington’s or Tehran’s course. For South Africa America is an external force whose decisions on war and sanctions immediately hit fuel prices, the rand and social stability, while also serving as a political adversary in debates over international law and global justice. For Israel the United States remains an indispensable guarantor and director of the war: it is Washington that decides when to bomb, when to stop and how far to go with the blockade, and in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem they try to fit into that logic without losing their own agenda.

The common thread running through Paris, Pretoria and Jerusalem is a shift in perception of the US from “global policeman” to “generator of systemic risks,” while still remaining indispensable. None of the three countries can simply “cancel” America: France needs American guarantees within NATO, South Africa needs access to markets and investment, Israel needs military, political and diplomatic backing. But as the war with Iran drags on and the blockade of Hormuz turns the White House’s internal decisions into a daily problem for filling stations in Marseille, Johannesburg and Haifa, a clearer question is being asked: can the America of today manage the crises it itself sets in motion?

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How the world reads Washington: Israel, Saudi Arabia and Germany on the US war with Iran

In early April 2026, conversations about America outside the United States again focused not on elections, not on culture wars and not even on China. The main prism through which Jerusalem, Riyadh and Berlin view Washington today is the US–Israel war against Iran, the fragile ceasefire, and the growing American maritime "semi‑blockade" regime around Iranian ports and the Strait of Hormuz. This combination — war, US–Iran negotiations, the oil market and America's debt burden — has become the subject of pointed columns and analysis in Israeli, Saudi and German media.

In Israel the focus is first and foremost on whether America can carry its military and diplomatic campaign against Iran to a "decisive point" and what that would cost Israel. In Saudi Arabia the question is how to use the moment to boost its own weight in the global financial architecture under US chairmanship at the G20 and IMF, without becoming hostage to escalation. In Germany the issue is how another Middle Eastern conflict involving the US and Israel undermines European energy security and pushes Berlin toward a more autonomous foreign and defense policy.

The first major story, read differently across all three countries, is the US–Iran negotiations themselves and the threat that the current "partial" US maritime control over Iranian ports could become a full blockade. Israeli press is setting the tone with pieces about a "dead end" in talks, arguing that the dispute over the status of the Strait of Hormuz and guarantees on the nuclear program became the key fracture point. An analysis in NTD in Hebrew lists in detail Iran's demands of the US: from recognition of the right to enrich uranium and lifting all sanctions to compensation for war damages and withdrawal of US forces from the region, up to obligations through the UN Security Council — a package the Israeli author presents as inherently unacceptable to Washington and even more so to Jerusalem. In that logic the US must either adopt a dangerous policy of "appeasement" toward Tehran or return to escalation, and Israel will effectively be drawn into either scenario.

Hence the dominant motif in Israeli commentary: criticism of the very architecture of the ceasefire as one that failed to create a clear moment of military "victory." In the major newspaper Israel Hayom an analyst writes that the ceasefire, which took effect on April 8 after forty days of war, was concluded "without a clear moment of conclusion," that it "erodes the deterrent effect" and allows Iran and its proxies — from Hezbollah to the Houthis — to treat it merely as a pause for regrouping rather than a defeat. From this perspective the US role is paradoxical: on one hand American support enabled inflicting serious military damage on Iran; on the other hand — according to some Israeli commentators — Washington is rushing toward diplomatic resolutions, not pressing the campaign to a level of pressure that would force Tehran to change its behavior.

Against this background, Washington's decision to sharply tighten the maritime regime around Iranian ports attracted special attention in Israeli discourse — in the Arab and Palestinian press this is called a "de facto naval blockade." In Al-Quds this step is described as a "virtually complete maritime screen" that threatens not only the Iranian economy but world trade, especially given that the ceasefire from the start was viewed as "fragile" and dependent on progress in talks. For Israeli military sources quoted by the religious portal JDN, the threat of a full-scale maritime blockade figures as the US's main "trump card" in case of dialogue failure: the ability to "almost completely cut off" vessel traffic to and from Iran is depicted as a lever that could break the regime's economic backbone without a formal declaration of total war. Israeli experts, however, clearly recognize that such a strategy automatically means higher oil prices and new rifts in US relations with China, India and several European countries dependent on Iranian oil.

The second transnational storyline is the impact of the American war and negotiations with Iran on the world economy and the dollar's role. In Arabic business and financial media, widely read in Saudi Arabia, the US–Israel war on Iran is presented not only as geopolitical but also as a currency‑oil shock. On the Arabic analytics site LiteFinance there is an explanation of how expectations of "de‑escalation in the Middle East," if Washington and Tehran reached a successful deal, prompted investors to sell dollars in anticipation of lower oil prices and easing inflation in the US, while failure of the talks and a hardening of the US stance instantly reversed the trend: the dollar strengthened again and market participants began pricing in the risk of further conflict. This perspective is interesting because it views US policy through the eyes of a private investor in Dubai or a Saudi financial center, for whom Washington is at once the issuer of a "safe haven" and the main source of turbulence.

The Saudi perspective is more complex and pragmatic. Saudi news and commentary call US moves in the Iran talks a risk factor for regional security and oil prices, but at the same time emphasize that the Kingdom knows how to convert this turbulence into higher oil revenues. The Egypto‑Arab outlet Almasdar, reviewing trading results on Persian Gulf exchanges after another talks breakdown, notes that despite falling equity indices, Saudi Arabia as an oil exporter benefits from higher commodity prices: Reuters calculations cited in the article show a noticeable year‑on‑year increase in the Kingdom's oil revenues. The economic calculation is clear: the more severely Washington squeezes Iranian exports, the higher the price per barrel and the more resilient Riyadh's budget becomes.

At the same time Saudi official and semi‑official media stress another side of America's role — its institutional dimension. Coverage of the spring meetings of the IMF and World Bank in Washington, where Saudi Arabia’s finance minister chairs a key committee of the International Monetary and Financial Committee, is built around the idea that under US chairmanship of the G20 and Washington's leading role in the Bretton Woods system the Kingdom is not just "reacting" to American decisions but is gradually entering the narrow circle of their co‑authors. The Saudi delegation's participation in this year's first meeting of G20 finance ministers and central bank governors under US chairmanship is presented as a forum for discussing "global financial system stability" and coordinating responses to shocks — from budding recessions in America to the consequences of the Middle Eastern war. Thus Washington here is simultaneously a source of risk (through escalation in the Strait of Hormuz) and a guarantor of a system in which Saudi Arabia seeks to take a place among the "architects" of the rules.

Against this background another strand of discussion in the Arab press is telling — about America's internal vulnerability to a protracted war. In Hebrew, but via the Iranian agency Tasnim, a widely circulated Reuters report quotes ordinary Americans complaining about rising gasoline prices and fear of Iranian retaliatory strikes on civilian targets. A baker from Indiana quoted in the piece admits he never truly believed Donald Trump's promises to bring "peace to the whole world," and that today people's main question is not "will we defeat Iran" but "will the war continue and how long will we keep paying for it at the gas pump." In Arab and Israeli audiences such stories serve as a reminder: American society's capacity for foreign‑policy adventures is not infinite, and prolonged intervention in Iran could accelerate domestic political shifts in the US with direct consequences for Washington's allies and adversaries.

The third common theme for Israel, Saudi Arabia and Germany is the strategic redistribution of influence between the US and China amid the Iranian campaign. The Israeli financial outlet Walla Finance published a column with a telling title about a "Chinese victory," in which the author argues that the US–Israel war in Iran and Donald Trump's attempt to "control" the world oil market are more likely to accelerate than slow down Europe's and Asia's drift away from dependence on American oil and the dollar. The author reminds readers that Trump — a businessman with a long history of bankruptcies — "inflicts long‑term damage on America in Iran," because his strategy of choking off Iranian exports pushes Beijing and European capitals to speed up the search for alternatives: from green energy to payment schemes that bypass the dollar. Europe and China, in this logic, are interested not in one side's victory but in reducing the risk premium that the US effectively adds to every tanker shipment through Hormuz.

The German discussion, though less emotionally charged, echoes the Israeli view in another respect: the US–Iran war fits into a longer European reflection about how much they can rely on American power to ensure their security and energy stability. Articles and background pieces on the "Strait of Hormuz crisis of 2026" in German sources describe how US and Israeli strikes on Iranian infrastructure, including key facilities on Kharg Island, provoked Iranian retaliatory missile and drone attacks on US bases and targets on the territories of Washington's Gulf allies, as well as on Israel. The de facto American "insurance blockade" and direct warnings to commercial vessels to avoid the conflict area demonstrate to Europeans how dependent their energy supplies remain on freedom of navigation controlled not by Brussels but by Washington. It is in this context that German analysts write about the need for the EU and, in particular, Berlin to build their own capacity to act in zones where US and European interests may diverge, while remaining within NATO.

Both in Germany and Israel there is also interest in how the US is simultaneously using military power and financial‑insurance mechanisms. German overviews of the Strait of Hormuz crisis note that Washington activated measures to support insurers under the US terrorism insurance law to offset some navigation risks created by its own military actions and Iranian threats. For the European reader this is a vivid example of how the US turns its domestic financial architecture into a tool of geopolitics — and why the EU, lacking a comparable unified fiscal and insurance toolbox, remains structurally vulnerable.

The fourth thread connecting discussions of America in all three countries is the question of US political stability and Donald Trump's role. In Israel Trump still appears as the "greatest friend" of the Jewish state, and fresh public‑opinion research published by Israeli analytical centers records a high appreciation of his efforts against anti‑Semitism, recognition of Jerusalem as Israel's capital and support in confronting Iran. At the same time the same Israeli discourse views his current decisions on Iran very soberly: political centers warn that Israel cannot build a long‑term strategy assuming endless and unconditional support from any American administration — the domestic divisions in the US are too deep and the economic costs of a new Middle Eastern war too high.

In Saudi Arabia the key lens is different: Trump and US leadership are discussed primarily as economic partners. Ahead of the current phase of the conflict there was widespread citation of Trump's Davos remarks that he would seek to increase Saudi investments in the US to "a trillion dollars" in exchange for strengthening economic partnership. For the Saudi elite this is an important marker: Washington is attractive and dangerous at once — a place to park capital under the protection of US jurisdiction and a capital whose decisions can at any moment redraw the regional map so that risks to those investments rise sharply.

In Germany the figure of Trump has long come to symbolize American unpredictability. German expert publications on US military buildup before the war with Iran and the subsequent escalation in the Strait of Hormuz consistently emphasize that European governments, including Germany's federal government, remain hostages to domestic US dynamics: today the White House is willing to spend resources projecting power in the Persian Gulf, tomorrow — under pressure from gasoline prices and voter protests — it might sharply change course, leaving allies to manage the consequences themselves.

Finally, Israeli and Palestinian outlets add an important detail often missing in English‑language coverage: the fear that America's rush to a quick "deal" with Iran in exchange for reopening the Strait of Hormuz and containing oil prices could push issues critical to Israeli and regional security onto the back burner. Commentators explicitly write that Washington might accept de facto recognition of Iranian influence in Lebanon and Syria in return for limited concessions on the nuclear program and oil, whereas for Israel and some Sunni Arab states (including Saudi Arabia) containing Iranian expansion in the Levant and Yemen is the top priority.

Thus, when gathering voices from Jerusalem, Riyadh and Berlin, a complex picture of America in spring 2026 emerges. It remains an indispensable military and financial superpower, capable of changing the balance of forces in the Persian Gulf with a Pentagon decision and redirecting global financial flows with a Treasury statement. But it is also a country whose domestic politics, sensitivity to gas prices and presidential approval ratings force allies and rivals to hedge for a high degree of unpredictability.

Israel sees the US as both a shield and a potential source of strategic illusions: American power enables strikes on Iran, but America's appetite for "quick deals" may leave the region with unfinished business and more armed Iranian proxies. Saudi Arabia views Washington as a partner with whom it must cautiously but persistently co‑author the rules of the global economy — so long as American warships keep oil prices high and thus provide resources for Saudi reforms. Germany regards the same America as a necessary ally but is accelerating talks on strategic autonomy: each new missile launched by or at the US in the Hormuz area reminds Berlin that "Atlantic dependence" has not only benefits but systemic risks.

What unites all three countries is this: no one any longer perceives the US as a monotonous, linearly predictable "hegemon." Washington today is a bundle of contradictions between military power and domestic war‑weariness, between the dollar as a "safe haven" and the dollar as a source of shocks, between alliance commitments and an eagerness to avoid new "endless conflicts" at almost any cost. It is precisely this tense mixture that shapes how America is written about and debated in Israel, Saudi Arabia and Germany in April 2026.

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World Through the Iranian Fire: How the US Is Shifting the Balance in Australia, Germany and...

In April 2026, speaking about the United States beyond America almost inevitably means speaking about a war with Iran, the Strait of Hormuz and surging oil prices. Unlike past decades, the current crisis is not seen as "another Washington campaign in the Middle East" but as an event that directly hits other countries' domestic politics, their energy security, economies and the very architecture of alliances. The US, led by Donald Trump, has once again become the main actor — but reactions to its actions in Canberra, Berlin and Riyadh are far more nervous and divided than in the era of "classic" American leadership.

The main stage is the war between the US and Israel on one side and Iran on the other, which began on 28 February 2026 with massive strikes on Iranian targets and retaliatory missile‑drone attacks on American bases and infrastructure in the Gulf countries. (ru.wikipedia.org) Around this conflict key narratives have formed: should Australia still "tie its fate" to the US via AUKUS; can Germany trust American security guarantees and NATO itself; where is Saudi Arabia's red line between dependence on Washington and its own vulnerability to Iranian strikes. In parallel the economic angle is debated: an energy shock, a reshuffling of the oil market, a new wave of tariffs and trade wars that Trump frames as a continuation of his "America First" policy.

The first major thematic node is the war with Iran and the crisis of American leadership. In German and broader European debate the dominant idea is that Operation "Epic Fury" has become a symbol of Washington's strategic miscalculation. A number of pieces in German‑language and Germany‑oriented analytical outlets emphasize: instead of the promised blitzkrieg, the US and Israel are bogged down in positional warfare, and Iranian strikes on US and allied bases have shown that even next‑generation missile‑defense systems, like the THAAD battery with AN/TPY‑2 radar deployed in Saudi Arabia, are vulnerable to massed attacks. (dobro-news.com) Against this background the view is gaining traction that Trump is using the war not so much for "Western security" as for domestic PR and market redistribution — including the oil market.

A characteristic tone is set by texts in the Russian‑language and Eastern European sphere, which are closely read in Germany. Thus, Sputnik, in its interpretation of European moods, describes the "catastrophic development of the operation" and writes that Trump, faced with resource shortages and a chilly attitude from European allies, is "absolutely certain" to consider withdrawing the US from NATO. In its version, "Europeans have come to a shared conclusion: 'This is not our war'," and even the "iron chancellor" Friedrich Merz is forced to maneuver under public pressure. (ru.sputnik.kz) German commentators, albeit much more cautiously, develop the theme: the US remains an indispensable military partner, but the political predictability of the White House is rapidly eroding, and therefore Europe must seriously consider strategic autonomy.

At the same time a familiar motif from 2003 appears in the German debate: comparisons with Iraq and reflections on how the new war undermines the last vestiges of trust in American "global missions." Analysts point out that the current crisis began after the failure of Iran‑US negotiations in 2025–2026, which were supposed to be a chance for de‑escalation but ended in escalation, strikes on nuclear facilities and, ultimately, direct war. (ru.wikipedia.org) In this logic the US appears no longer as a "guarantor of order" but as a factor of instability that at any moment can derail long diplomatic efforts.

The war with Iran is perceived very differently, though equally controversially, in Australia. Here the key lens is not NATO but AUKUS, the trilateral defense pact with the US and the UK intended to give Canberra nuclear submarines and deeper integration with the American military machine in the Indo‑Pacific. Against the backdrop of the Iranian conflict Australian commentators again ask: does AUKUS bind the country to wars it does not strategically need.

The left and part of the centrist intelligentsia remind that even before the current escalation the leader of the Australian Greens, Adam Bandt, warned that AUKUS "puts a very large target on Australia's back" and turns the country into a potential theater of other people's wars. In his words, "now is not the time to hitch the Australian cart to Donald Trump," especially when it comes to the hundreds of billions for submarines that may never arrive. He said this in an ABC interview and then repeated it in a number of appearances widely quoted in the local press and discussed on the Reddit community r/australia. (reddit.com)

On the other hand, official Canberra projects public optimism: key ministers reassure the public that even if Trump revises terms, the strategic purpose of AUKUS will remain, and that the US, interested in containing China, will not abandon such a showcase format. Australian analysis tries to reconcile two dimensions: on one hand, concern about the arbitrariness of White House decisions; on the other, the realization that Canberra has no alternative to the American umbrella against China. In the debates the war with Iran becomes an argument not only against AUKUS but also against unconditional support for any American operation: if the US is bogged down in the Middle East, how reliably can it provide deterrence in the Pacific?

The third and most complex storyline unfolds in Saudi Arabia, where the US is simultaneously perceived as a vital security guarantor and a source of mortal risk. Military actions showed how dangerous the presence of American bases is for the kingdom: the Iranian strikes on 28 February were aimed not only at US forces but also at infrastructure in Saudi Arabia and other Arab states, and Saudi air defenses intercepted missiles near the international airport outside Riyadh where American forces are based. (ru.wikipedia.org) One Middle East bulletin described serious damage to an American THAAD radar at Prince Sultan base after an Iranian strike, which raises the painful question again: does an alliance with Washington become a "magnet" for missiles?

An economic thread runs parallel. The intensified conflict around the Strait of Hormuz and, especially, the 8 April strike on the Petroline pipeline — the key bypass route for Saudi oil around Hormuz — strengthened the sense in Riyadh that the kingdom is "under direct attack" and that even diversified routes do not protect against the shock. Market analyses record a projected sustained shortfall of 3–5 million barrels per day that cannot be offset simply by "reopening" the strait, and therefore instability in revenues and budgetary imbalances for Saudi Arabia. (coinunited.io) In interviews and commentary, Saudi and affiliated experts — such as Tarek Solomon, honorary chairman of the American Chamber of Commerce in Saudi Arabia — remind that "Saudi GDP dances to the rhythm of oil" and every new geopolitical escalation initiated by Washington makes that dance more nervous. (port-mone.tv)

At the same time the kingdom's political elite in the public sphere remains on a line of close cooperation with the US. Leaks reproduced in Arab and international media say that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman repeatedly urged Trump to strike Iran even before the war began, seeing in it a chance to finally "pin down" a regional rival. (ru.wikipedia.org) But as the conflict drags on and Petroline was hit, the tone changed: in Saudi‑leaning analysis a cautious motif emerges that the US overestimates its ability to control escalation and that Riyadh, not Washington, will pay for destroyed infrastructure and lost investor confidence.

Against this background it is particularly telling how Saudi Arabia and Germany read the same signals from Washington differently. For Berlin, the main irritant is Trump's talk of a possible exit from NATO and his habit of bargaining with Europeans over their defense spending, using the war with Iran as leverage. In cited comments it is emphasized: Trump calls NATO a "paper tiger" and simultaneously threatens "retribution" against Europe if it does not more actively support his Middle East campaign. (ru.sputnik.kz) For the German audience this looks like an attempt to shift the political and economic costs of an American adventure onto allies.

In Saudi Arabia Trump's rhetoric is interpreted more as domestic bargaining. It is noted that the US president, fearing a spike in oil prices and economic damage to America, in private conversations expresses concern to the crown prince, while bin Salman reassures him that the consequences will be temporary. (anna-news.info) In local discourse, especially among technocrats and the business elite, the thought is voiced: if Washington so readily "re‑negotiates" with its European partners, shouldn't Riyadh prepare for the possibility that it will be treated the same way if US domestic politics demand it.

Particular interest lies in perceptions of American domestic dynamics. In a number of analytical pieces popular in Eastern Europe and resonating with the German expert community, it is emphasized that the war with Iran and the economic crisis — higher tariffs, more expensive imports, domestic inflation — have hit Trump's ratings, which some commentators estimate have fallen to roughly a third of voters. (eadaily.com) Against this backdrop a narrative forms about a "small victorious war" needed by the White House not so much to accomplish foreign‑policy goals as to distract from a negative domestic agenda — from the tariff war to the Epstein affair. Such narratives are unlikely to be so bluntly articulated in the American mainstream press itself, but abroad they become a central frame: the world sees not a confident superpower in the US, but a nervous political system in which external aggression becomes a tool for managing internal crises.

The Australian conversation about the US is much more down to earth in this context. Here the focus is not Trump's ratings but concrete financial and military consequences. In AUKUS coverage Australian observers stress that the country has already committed to spending about 368 billion Australian dollars over three decades — the largest defense project in history, tied to American shipyards and technology. (scmp.com) The question Canberra asks itself: what if, in the midst of the Iranian war, Trump decides to "review" the terms, demand additional payments or even scrap the program, as has already been discussed in American conservative circles. In one statement from the Australian Greens it is said bluntly that Trump could either "take the money and walk away from the deal" or demand an "even more astronomical sum" from Australia in exchange for continued US participation. That scenario is treated as a real political risk, not rhetorical exaggeration. (cdn.greens.org.au)

Finally, there is another, less obvious but important motif uniting reactions in Australia, Germany and Saudi Arabia: growing doubt about the US's ability to simultaneously lead the global energy and financial order. Analytical reviews note the "severe inflationary hit" the American economy is taking amid the war, as well as large‑scale problems with energy infrastructure — from data centers to aging grids and railways. (tbank.ru) In Saudi Arabia this is read as a signal that Washington is increasingly interested in high oil prices and in reshaping the market in favor of its own producers, even at the cost of shocks for allies. In Germany — as another argument for caution in following American sanctions and energy policies. In Australia — as a reminder that the economic foundation of American power is not limitless, and therefore long‑term defense promises require sober reassessment.

Against this background alternative, sometimes conspiratorial, interpretations of American strategy appear. In one prominent article discussed in the Russian‑language space and noticed by Middle Eastern experts, it is claimed that behind the war with Iran lies Trump's plan to "eliminate the main competitors of Israel" among the wealthy Gulf oil monarchies, including Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and the UAE. The author draws the line: by pushing Iran into aggression, Washington allegedly hopes to bleed these regimes, make them more dependent on the US and at the same time free up space for American shale producers on the world market. (pravda.ru) Such interpretations are far from mainstream, but they are important as an indicator of distrust: for part of the regional audience the US ceases even to be a cynical but predictable player; many‑move plans of managed chaos are attributed to it.

The resulting picture of US perception in three such different countries boils down to several intersecting conclusions. First, the war with Iran has become litmus paper, showing that trust in American guarantees — be they within NATO, AUKUS or bilateral arrangements with Saudi Arabia — is no longer taken on faith and is constantly tested. Second, the economic dimension of American policy — from tariffs to energy maneuvers — has become an integral part of foreign‑policy discussions: Australia counts the money and timelines for submarines, Germany the cost of another round of sanctions and energy, Saudi Arabia the price of every strike on its oil arteries. Third, Trump's personality and governing style appear in reactions not as an incidental factor but as a symptom: for many abroad the US system looks increasingly unstable, more prone to abrupt turns on which the fates of entire regions depend.

What is barely visible in American debate but clearly perceptible in the mirror of Australia, Germany and Saudi Arabia is fatigue with the role the US has put itself in. "This is not our war" — that is how sources close to NATO describe the European stance, and that phrase is increasingly heard elsewhere in the world. (ru.sputnik.kz) But so long as Washington continues to combine large‑scale military operations, tariff pressure and ambitions as an energy superpower, Australia, Germany and Saudi Arabia are forced not only to react to every new US step but also to build contingency plans in case the "American umbrella" suddenly springs a leak. That feeling — not antagonism, but deep uncertainty — perhaps best describes the global attitude toward the United States today.

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War with Iran, Hormuz and a "Test of Alliances": How the US Looks to Seoul, Brasília and Paris

In early April 2026, American policy again became a central topic on the editorial pages in Seoul, Rio de Janeiro and Paris — but not through the usual narratives about democracy or elections, rather through the war with Iran, the threat of the Strait of Hormuz being closed, and a crisis of confidence in Washington’s alliance commitments. The US is simultaneously seen as an indispensable military pillar, a source of economic turbulence and a strategic actor growing less predictable under Donald Trump’s leadership. Against this backdrop each country projects its own fears and calculations onto America: South Korea — through the prism of the alliance and pressure over Iran; Brazil — through economic risks and the dilemma of distancing versus rapprochement; France — through European autonomy and the cost of dependence on American power.

The most sensitive nerve everywhere is the US and Israeli war against Iran and the related "Hormuz crisis." French analysts describe this escalation as a "military and diplomatic vortex" around a strategic node of the global oil market, where the US military buildup since early 2026 is viewed as the main risk factor for Europe, which depends on seaborne hydrocarbon supplies. French studies on energy security explicitly state that closure or narrowing of Hormuz becomes a trigger for stagflation in Europe — a combination of weak growth and sharply rising energy prices — and recent Oxford Economics estimates are cited as justification for how "expensive" the American strategy of forceful deterrence of Iran in the strait becomes for Europeans. This is detailed in an analytical report published by the Brussels center Etopia, which relies on scenarios of a Hormuz blockade and spikes in oil and gas prices that are now part of European agendas not as abstract geopolitics but as drivers of domestic inflation and social tension. As the study emphasizes, any American military decision in Hormuz automatically turns into an economic shock for Europeans, pushing Paris and Brussels toward talks about strategic autonomy, but without illusions about quickly breaking with Washington.

South Korea views the same war differently: not as an energy issue, but as a "test of the alliance." A column in Korea JoongAng Daily states directly that the US–Iran conflict has become a stress test for the Seoul–Washington alliance and a typical case where American expectations of an ally do not match its capabilities and interests. The author reminds readers that Trump publicly scolded Seoul for its reluctance to send warships to the Hormuz area and questioned the value of Korean support relative to Korea's economic benefits from the alliance. The same column notes that despite a record-high level of support for the US alliance in Korean society — Asan Institute polls show about 97% support for the alliance and more than 80% approval of the US troop presence — citizens increasingly distinguish "America as a country" from "Trump as a politician." As The Korea Times notes in its analysis of the recent Asan poll, Koreans largely expect relations with the US to improve in 2026, even though Trump’s personal approval rating remains low; the columnist’s conclusion: a rational society "may dislike Trump, but continues to see the US as the best available option," and is therefore willing to endure discomfort for the sake of the strategic umbrella. At the same time, South Korean commentators stress that the Hormuz crisis is a rehearsal for far more dangerous scenarios related to Taiwan and the South China Sea, where Washington’s pressure on Seoul to "take sides," in their view, would be even tougher.

The French discussion of the war with Iran takes a more academic tone, but the central motif is the same: the US is seen as the main architect of escalation and simultaneously the only force capable of stopping it. An article on the French "Wikipedia" dedicated to the 2026 Hormuz Strait crisis describes the conflict as the culmination of a series of US and Israeli strikes on Iran and Tehran’s retaliatory actions, which led to an effective blockade of the strait and attempts to attack American tankers. The emphasis is that Hormuz is not merely a "foreign" theater of American military power but a key artery for European energy. As a result, French columnists and experts talk less about the moral legitimacy of US actions and more about the need for Europe to develop a policy of "containing dependence": strengthening its navies in the region, diversifying supplies, and negotiating with Gulf states. It is not surprising that Paris both criticizes Trump for unilateral decisions and remains dependent on the American nuclear and intelligence "umbrella" in the region.

In Brazil the reaction is much more emotional: the war is perceived primarily as a factor that "makes North Americans’ lives more expensive," and through that — as a source of global economic instability. A piece on CNN Brasil analyzes how the conflict with Iran and rising oil prices and US bond yields translate into higher mortgage and credit card rates for Americans, which in turn affects expectations for the Fed rate and investment flows in global markets. Economists quoted by the network warn that a protracted war could mean sustained high rates and, consequently, a stronger dollar for countries like Brazil that depend on external financing. Brazilian commentators connect this to the domestic agenda: a strong dollar, they write, means more expensive imports for Brazil, pressure on inflation, and an additional headache for the Central Bank.

At the same time, a sharp moral and political critique of American tactics is heard in Brazil’s intellectual space. In a republication of an editorial from the Catholic magazine America on the Instituto Humanitas Unisinos website, the authors condemn Trump’s rhetoric — threatening to bomb all of Iran’s energy and transport infrastructure if it does not open Hormuz — as a violation of basic principles of international humanitarian law: "Treating an entire country’s infrastructure as a lawful military objective contradicts all conventions on the conduct of war." The piece also states that the "unjust and unwarranted" US–Israeli war against Iran achieves none of its declared goals — from limiting nuclear ambitions to protecting populations from repression. Brazilian editors, citing American authors, thereby construct an image of Washington as a power that has lost strategic clarity and shifted to demonstrative violence.

Interestingly, some Brazilian commentary focuses not on traditional leftist anti‑Americanism but on disillusionment within the American right itself. A piece posted by the Portuguese-language service of Xinhua quotes Democratic Senator Tim Kaine saying the administration failed to present even classified evidence of an "imminent threat" from Iran to justify a strike, and political scientist Christopher Galdieri claiming that "it appears there are no internal brakes in the administration that could stop Trump from following his worst instincts." For a Brazilian audience, these quotes function as confirmation: even within the US the conservative MAGA wing is beginning to see intervention in Iran as a mistake, so this is not merely "anti‑Trump" rhetoric from liberals. Overall, American policy looks from Brazil like a source of external instability to be hedged against economically, but one that cannot be ignored.

Another major thread connecting the three countries is the crisis of trust in US alliance commitments and the problem of Trump’s "transactionalism" toward allies. This is most acute in South Korea. An Asia Times column on the "alliance dilemma" emphasizes that the Korea–US alliance has always differed from the classic "ward–patron" model in that Seoul invested significant resources in joint efforts, from the Vietnam War to current operations. The author recalls that South Korean troops participated in American wars and often did not receive the recognition they deserved. Against this background, Trump’s present demands — from increasing Seoul’s financial share in hosting US troops to sending ships to Hormuz — are perceived as crude "transactionalism" in which history and mutual sacrifice mean nothing and the alliance’s value is measured solely by present payments and willingness to risk for another’s agenda.

Korea Times, analyzing recent Asan Institute polls, notes an interesting paradox: record support for the alliance alongside growing anxiety about the US’s "long-term reliability." The paper highlights that nearly 75% of Koreans see the US as their main economic partner, about 64% as the key security partner, but in discussions of Russia and China the term "alternative centers of power" increasingly appears, forcing Seoul to navigate between them. The columnist summarizes the mood: "South Koreans have become more realistic, if not less anxious," and the main challenge for Seoul’s policy is to "trust America but prepare for a future in which trusting it will be harder." This formula shows how deeply the Iran conflict and Trump’s attacks on allies penetrate Korean domestic debate over whether to develop its own nuclear capability, strengthen ties with the EU, or seek new balances with China.

In France similar questions about US reliability are asked in a European context. In a series of pieces on the war with Iran and the strengthening of American military presence, France and the EU discuss not only energy risks but NATO’s strategic future. A Portuguese-language Europeantimes publication on the "fragile truce" between the US and Iran quotes the American president musing about possibly leaving NATO and accusing the alliance of having "failed the exam" and "not being there when needed" after the war with Iran began. European audiences perceive this rhetoric as far more consequential than the usual blackmail about 2% of GDP on defense: they see the very principle of mutual defense at stake. In response, French analysts in institutions like the European Council on Foreign Relations call for deepening defense cooperation with partners beyond NATO, including South Korea, and for creating mechanisms to "insure against the White House" if it someday deems European interests secondary. A recent ECFR report explicitly states that Europe and South Korea in the "Trump era" need each other as mutual hedging instruments against the unpredictability of American policy.

The Brazilian perspective differs in that Brazil is not a military ally of the US and thus views the NATO and Asian alliance crises more distantly. In Brazilian texts the key motif is not "how to save the alliance" but "how not to become hostage to others’ alliances." When Brazilian analysts describe Trump’s disputes with NATO and pressure on South Korea and Japan, they see confirmation of their long-held doctrine of strategic autonomy: Global South countries should not tie their security and economy to the will of a single superpower, especially if that superpower is willing to use tariffs, sanctions and military force as tools of domestic politics. Therefore, although Brazil is unlikely to be drawn into war via collective defense mechanisms, its experts and diplomats closely watch how the US treats allies — an indicator of how ready Washington is to respect or ignore the interests of countries without formal pacts with it.

Finally, a cross-cutting theme for all three countries is domestic tension in American politics and its effect on the image of the US as a "normative" power. For South Korean audiences events in the US — from internal conflicts over Trump to protests against the war with Iran — serve as a reminder that alliance reliability depends not only on geopolitics but also on the resilience of American democracy. Korean newspapers covering Congressional debates over the president’s war powers regarding Iran note that resistance to "unchecked foreign policy" is growing even inside the US. This is used as an argument for Seoul not to follow Washington blindly but to actively engage with American public opinion, academic circles and Congress to explain Korea’s positions on North Korea and China.

Brazilian outlets, republishing and reworking Western material, emphasize that the war with Iran splits the American conservative coalition itself: part of the MAGA movement, authors note, is unhappy with a "foreign war" that does not fit the America First slogan and sees the conflict as an Israel-driven adventure. This matters for Brazilian audiences, where left and right skepticism toward the US has a long history: the argument "even their own conservatives oppose it" legitimizes criticism of Washington without reducing it to mere anti-Americanism.

In France the domestic American polarization and the possibility of Trump pulling out of NATO provoke a more pragmatic anxiety: if the US once again changes president and course, Europe risks being trapped between inconsistent American "interventionism without strategy" and an aggressive Russia while remaining dependent on Hormuz and other chokepoints of the global economy. Thus the French debate is increasingly less about moral judgment of the US and more about how to live in a world where Washington remains a key actor but is no longer a reliably "order‑keeping" guardian.

The composite picture is this: in Seoul America is still by and large seen as an indispensable ally, but there is growing talk of the need for a "Plan B" should Trump’s transactionalism undermine the alliance’s foundations. In Brazil the US is perceived as a source of economic shocks and politico‑moral dilemmas, yet also as the inevitable center of the global financial system to which one must adapt. In France the US is viewed both as a guarantor of European security and as the main producer of strategic crises — from Hormuz to Kyiv — forcing Europe to pay, in its own experience, for Washington’s use of force.

It is the war with Iran and the Hormuz crisis that today weave these different national perspectives into a common knot: for South Korea it is an exam of alliance fidelity, for Brazil a lesson about the cost of dependence on the dollar economy and volatile oil prices, for France a reminder that European security and energy remain tightly linked to decisions made in Washington. As a result, the US remains at the center of the international agenda, but increasingly not as the undisputed leader of the "free world," rather as a powerful but dangerously unpredictable partner that must be simultaneously supported, restrained and insured against.

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How the World Debates America: Saudi Arabia, Japan and South Africa on Today's US

Three different regions at once — the Middle East, East Asia and southern Africa — are viewing the United States at the start of 2026 through the lens of their own anxieties and interests. Saudi media are dominated by the topic of American policy in the Middle East and its connection to regional stability and war with Iran. In Japan, the US is seen primarily as a source of both geoeconomic and military‑political risks and guarantees: from the renegotiation of the USMCA to the unpredictability of the next administration in Washington. In South Africa, Washington has become the object of a sharp dispute over sovereignty and “neocolonialism” because of a program to admit white South Africans as refugees and the US decision to exclude the country from the G20 summit in Miami. At first glance these are unrelated storylines, but in all three cases the same motifs recur: doubt about the durability of American leadership, irritation with Washington’s unilateral moves and, at the same time, an unwillingness to fully abandon it.

The first major node of debate is the new US–Iran confrontation and attempts to de‑escalate it. Saudi publications respond closely and emotionally to every Washington step in this direction, because this is not an abstract “great power politics” question but a direct threat to the region. The newspaper Al‑Riyadh welcomed the ceasefire agreement announced by Donald Trump between the US and Iran and emphasized that Riyadh hopes it will become “an opportunity for comprehensive and sustainable de‑escalation that will strengthen the region’s security” and stop “any aggressions and policies affecting the sovereignty and stability of the region’s countries” in a recent editorial note. The author is clearly referring not only to Iranian power projection but also to US inconsistency itself, which alternately increases pressure and seeks détente, leaving allies in a state of strategic uncertainty. (alriyadh.com)

In the same vein develops the line about “Saudi Arabia as a force of stability,” which also appears in earlier Al‑Riyadh texts. There it is stressed that Washington itself acknowledges the kingdom as a “force of stability in the region,” and the US–Saudi strategic partnership is declared the key instrument to contain “extremes and terrorism led by Iran.” Thus, in the Saudi view the US is simultaneously a source of risks and a necessary partner: American decisions can blow up the balance, but only America, cooperating with Riyadh, can maintain that balance. (spa.gov.sa)

An interesting layer of the Saudi‑Arab discussion is connected to the personality of Donald Trump and his style. Egyptian commentator Sherif Amer on MBC lays out the fact that Trump, as in 2017, again chose Riyadh as his first major foreign stop, breaking the tradition of making Europe and meetings with NATO the first destination. He explains this not only by economic and political interests, but as a demonstration that “the Middle East, not Europe, is now the stage on which Trump wants to show his new course” and where the US is trying to build a “new Middle East through the peoples of the region themselves.” In this narrative America becomes more of a director than a guarantor: it assigns roles but does not offer a clear script, and this, according to many Middle Eastern analysts, is the main source of concern. (newsroom.info)

The second major storyline — geoeconomics and military‑political alliances — features a distinctly Japanese voice. Here the US is perceived not through Middle East wars but through tariff policy, economic security and possible adjustments to alliance commitments. In a recent KPMG Japan review on “economic security and geopolitical risks in 2026” it is explicitly stated that as US elections approach, Washington is increasingly concentrating on “its own national interests” and considers the Indo‑Pacific region, including Japan, as “the main economic and geopolitical battleground.” From this follows business concerns: a revision of the USMCA is expected in 2026, and Japanese companies fear a new American administration will use trade agreements as leverage, including against allies. (kpmg.com)

At the same time, Japanese research centers and universities discuss a more fundamental question: how reliable is the US–Japan alliance itself in an era of presidential unpredictability. At a security symposium at Takushoku University devoted to “the next US administration and the future of the US‑Japan alliance,” experts spoke less about specific tariffs and more about how the “psychology of the alliance” changes when a leader who openly criticizes US military commitments and demands more contribution from allies occupies the White House. One speaker, Professor Sato, drew the audience’s attention to the factor of “personal compatibility” between the future US president and the Japanese prime minister, effectively acknowledging that strategic guarantees increasingly depend on the character and style of the particular American leader. (takushoku-u.ac.jp)

More radical thoughts are beginning to appear in columns by Japanese political scientists. International relations scholar Hideo Shinoda, in his analytical newsletter, ponders whether Japan could in the future rely on a sort of “Japan‑Europe alliance” as an alternative to excessive dependence on the US. The prompt for these reflections is precisely the American line on Ukraine and Russia: part of Japan’s expert community is noticeably irritated that Washington, especially under Trump, tends to press behind the scenes for peace talks rather than unconditionally supporting continuation of the war until Kyiv’s victory. For some Japanese authors this signals that “betting only on America” regarding European and East Asian security might be a mistake, and preparations are needed for a world with a more dispersed center of power. (shinodahideaki.theletter.jp)

The third powerful block of debates unfolds in South Africa and is linked to two high‑profile Washington actions: launching a special program to admit white South Africans as refugees, known as Mission South Africa, and the US decision not to invite South Africa to the G20 summit in Miami in 2026. Formally the program is framed as humanitarian: the majority of the 4,499 people admitted to the US under this line from October 2025 to March 2026 are white South Africans of Afrikaner origin who claim systematic discrimination and violence related to land reform. Inside South Africa this has sparked a large debate. For conservative and right‑wing Afrikaner circles the American initiative confirms their long‑standing complaints about threats to their communities and is a “long‑awaited recognition” by the Western world. For the ruling elite and leftist movements it looks like an attempt by Washington to “map South Africa along racial lines” and delegitimize post‑apartheid land redistribution policy. (en.wikipedia.org)

The US decision to exclude South Africa from the invited list for the G20 summit, motivated by “treatment of Afrikaners” and the dispute over the transfer of South African chairmanship, only amplified these sentiments. South African editorials speak almost in unison: Washington is, in effect, punishing the country not for human rights violations in general, but for a conflict concerning a specific group historically associated with the ruling elite of the apartheid era. In one typical comment this action is described as a “neocolonial managerial gesture,” whereby the US renders a moral verdict on an entire post‑apartheid transformation policy without taking into account its own history of racial conflict and the colonial backdrop of the situation. For part of the local public this strengthens the desire to distance itself from Washington and rely on BRICS formats and the “Global South” as a counterweight. (en.wikipedia.org)

Interestingly, the African conversation about the US is not limited to South Africa. A series of English‑language African commentaries, against the background of a sharp reduction in American aid to the continent, emphasizes that the drop in aid from more than $12 billion in the last year of the Biden administration to roughly $7.9 billion under Trump did not lead to the “apocalypse” some expected, but instead pushed states toward deeper internal mobilization and regional integration. African authors note: the “sharp reduction in support” painfully affected sectors like healthcare and aid for victims of violence, but at the same time accelerated the launch of the African Continental Free Trade Area and the abandonment of illusions that “donors will solve Africa’s problems.” Against this backdrop America appears more as a tough coach than a benefactor: by pushing away, it forces the continent to learn to swim on its own. (apnews.com)

If one compares these three regional optics, several crosscutting motifs emerge that are not obvious when reading only American media. First, unpredictability of the US dominates almost everywhere today. In Saudi Arabia this manifests as anxiety: can Washington at any moment change its line on Iran and leave the region to face the consequences alone. In Japan it is the fear that another revision of trade rules and alliance commitments will be dictated by domestic political logic in Washington rather than coordinated with partners. In South Africa it is the feeling that tomorrow the issue of “human rights” might be used against any policy that does not fit the American political discourse.

Second, in all three cases a motif of “forced dependence” appears. Riyadh criticizes or at least warily assesses many US steps but simultaneously stresses the indispensability of the US‑Saudi partnership for regional stability and the fight against ISIS and Iranian influence. Tokyo increasingly contemplates alternatives and “parallel pillars” such as Europe, but the same KPMG analysis underscores that the US views the Indo‑Pacific as the main front — meaning that without American guarantees Japan risks being alone before China. South Africa, despite outrage over Mission South Africa and the G20 snub, does not sever ties with Washington: too much is tied to investment, trade and access to financial markets.

Third, there is a shared fatigue with American moral leadership. Saudi and other Arab authors increasingly question Washington’s right to speak for the “international community” when its own actions in the region are contradictory. Japanese analysts are irritated that the American discourse of “democracy versus authoritarianism” is combined with a very pragmatic attitude toward allies: if it is electorally advantageous to pressure Japan with tariffs, it will be done regardless of shared values. South African commentators see American guardianship over the “rights of particular minorities” as a way to sidestep discussion of structural inequality and historical legacy, and therefore are more likely to call for a “multipolar ethics” where different regions themselves formulate the balance between justice and sovereignty.

Finally, each region offers its own prescription for dealing with this new America. In the Middle East pragmatism dominates: work with whoever is in the White House now, squeeze the maximum out of bilateral partnership and simultaneously build additional ties — from China to regional alliances. In East Asia interest grows in “insuring” against American unpredictability through internal strengthening of defense capabilities and development of horizontal ties with Europe and neighbors. In South Africa, and more broadly across the continent, the call grows louder not to mourn the reduction of American aid but to use it as an opportunity to build a less dependent economy and diplomatic line.

From Washington’s perspective, these voices may seem little more than background noise to America’s domestic battles. But it is in these Saudi, Japanese and South African columns and debates that the real content of the “world’s attitude toward the US” is being formed — not in polls about the popularity of the American flag, but in the cold calculations, anxieties and hopes of countries that must live with the consequences of American decisions.

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America Between Iran, Hormuz and Europe: Views from Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Germany

In recent days, the image of the United States in the foreign press has again been assembled like a mosaic from the Middle Eastern crisis, tanker movements through the Strait of Hormuz, missile strikes and a nervous European economy. In Turkey, Washington is discussed through the prism of a war of nerves with Iran and oil price spikes; in Saudi Arabia — through the question of maritime security and the boundaries of possible American military support; in Germany — primarily through the impact of American policy on transatlantic relations and the economy, from tariffs to recession. The common backdrop is one: the world is watching closely to see whether the new American "hardness" is turning into strategic unpredictability.

The first major node of debate is the confrontation between the US and Iran and, more broadly, with pro‑Iranian forces. In the Turkish business and analytical press the phrase “ABD ve İsrail'in saldırıları” — “attacks by the US and Israel” — and “Hürmüz Boğazı krizi” — “the Hormuz Strait crisis” — are constantly repeated. A piece in Turkish Forbes Türkiye dedicated to recent events emphasizes that against the backdrop of US and Israeli strikes on Iranian targets, Tehran managed in March to maintain exports at 1.9 million barrels per day, effectively earning about an additional $2 billion for the month while the strait closed and then partially reopened to shipping. As the author notes in that publication, “Washington appears de facto forced to ease sanctions,” since real pressure on Iranian oil proved lower than stated. For Turkish commentators this is an important detail: it shows not only the limits of American power but also that US sanctions policy increasingly fails to mesh with the real dynamics of regional crises and energy flows.

The same storyline refracts in Saudi discussions in a much harsher key through the prism of shipping security and the fear of a major Gulf war. The kingdom’s Arab English‑language media, such as Arab News, since last year’s rounds of escalation around Yemen and the Houthis have followed a line in which Washington is simultaneously seen as an indispensable military guarantor and as a source of protracted instability. In one of their articles on continuing US strikes against Yemeni Houthis it is emphasized that the Pentagon promises “to continue strikes until attacks on shipping cease,” but the same piece conveys alarm: US strikes naturally provoke threats of retaliatory escalation from Tehran and its allies, increasing risks to shipping and Gulf infrastructure. In Saudi logic this means American policy again acts “over the edge”: a local security problem becomes a long‑term hotspot drawing in the entire maritime basin.

Finally, the European — in particular German — view of the same confrontation is much more restrained and focused on secondary effects. The German debate traditionally frames Washington’s Middle East decisions within the context of transatlantic relations and energy security. On the one hand, as a NATO member Germany is automatically tied into the logical chain of the US strategy to contain Iran. On the other — Germans remember too well the spikes in gas and oil prices after 2022. Therefore any intensification of US‑Iran confrontation and maneuvers around the Strait of Hormuz is perceived primarily as a new source of price pressure and recession risk, costs that European consumers bear rather than American political headquarters.

The second major block of discussion, which brings the Turkish and Saudi agendas much closer together, is the American military economy and arms exports. The Turkish state agency Anadolu Ajansı recently published a large analytical piece with a telling headline that the map of US arms sales virtually overlaps with the map of geopolitical crises. That analysis lists recent deals in detail: from missile deliveries to Europe to the service and training packages for Saudi Arabia’s helicopter fleet approved in December 2025 worth about $1 billion. The author emphasizes that Washington consistently “monetizes” zones of tension, increasing arms shipments exactly where conflicts grow, and that this is not an exception but a stable behavioral model of the US military‑industrial complex, strengthened by Trump administration policies. This narrative line in Turkey has a double meaning: on the one hand, Ankara itself actively buys and sells weapons; on the other — Turkish commentators point to an asymmetry in which the US demands political loyalty from allies while using instability to export its own arms.

In Saudi Arabia the same reality is discussed more cautiously, but the subtext is noticeable: the kingdom remains one of the main buyers of American weapons systems, and each new package from Washington provokes a mix of relief and restrained irritation. Relief — because without American equipment and support Saudi modernization of its army and air defenses would have slowed. Irritation — because the very need for such large‑scale purchases is seen as a direct result of the same environment of unresolved conflicts and Iranian proxy threats, which many analysts regard as the product of decades of American policy in the region. Against this backdrop a common comparison often arises: Washington is essentially both the firefighter and the supplier of gasoline.

The third important theme to which America is linked everywhere is the consequences of US macroeconomic policy for the rest of the world. Turkish economic outlets promptly relay fresh US Bureau of Economic Analysis data: one recent piece reported that US economic growth in 2025 amounted to only 0.5% in real terms, while state‑level dynamics varied widely — from nearly 4% growth in North Dakota to a decline of more than 8% in the District of Columbia. Turkish commentators use these statistics to discuss the resilience of the American economy to geopolitical stress and its ability to continue a policy of high interest rates that siphon capital from emerging markets. The point is that a “weak but still positive” US growth gives Washington room to continue tight monetary policy, while Turkey and other markets are forced to pay higher borrowing costs and defend their currencies.

The German perspective on the same subject is even more sensitive. Public opinion surveys, such as ZDF‑Politbarometer, already recorded last year a deterioration in Germans’ views of US‑German relations amid the change of US president and growing skepticism about the benefits of American tax and trade initiatives. In that same study respondents voiced concern that US policies of tariffs, subsidies, and investment pull (for example in green energy and high tech) undermine the competitiveness of European industry and provoke a “subsidy race.” In today’s German commentary this is often packaged together with American foreign policy: Germany finds itself a partner increasingly hard to explain to its voters why it should unconditionally follow Washington — in military, economic, and energy dimensions alike.

The fourth common motif is skepticism about the long‑term predictability of American policy, amplified by internal polarization in the US. In the Arab press aimed at readers in Saudi Arabia and the region there are regular analyses of American domestic political battles — from changes in the Speaker of the House to attempts to reform electoral procedures. In one analytical piece on the Asharq Al‑Awsat portal, devoted to Democrats’ struggles in rural America, the article describes in detail how Republican states like Wyoming are tightening rules on party registration changes to cement partisan balances. The authors emphasize that this reflects deep structural polarization that directly affects foreign policy: a change of administration in Washington today almost automatically means a change in course on key dossiers — from Iran to trade with Europe.

Turkish commentators approach this topic from another angle: for them American unpredictability is a factor that complicates Ankara’s long‑term juggling between Washington, Moscow, Tehran and Beijing. In analytical programs on Turkish TV discussing, for example, current attempts to organize a peace process around Iran, the idea often appears that “today’s Washington” might accept Tehran’s preconditions for talks while “tomorrow’s” could reject them. One Turkish expert on A Haber recalled how US attitudes toward Israel and the Iran issue have changed over decades depending on domestic political cycles, concluding, in his words, “for us America is not a single subject but a whole set of competing centers of influence, and we are forced to pursue policy as if several foreign policies coexist in Washington.”

In Saudi Arabia US domestic tensions have become a reason for a more cautious strategy: there they clearly remember how American lines changed on issues critical to the kingdom — from relations with Iran and the Yemen war to discussions on oil production within OPEC+. Saudi commentators increasingly speak of the need for an “insurance policy” in the form of diversifying foreign relations — strengthening ties with China and Russia while not severing the strategic alliance with the US. In this discourse America is still viewed as a key partner, but no longer as the only option.

Against this backdrop it is particularly interesting what is almost invisible inside the US itself: the image of Washington as an increasingly regional actor whose policy is simultaneously strong and constrained. In Turkish texts about the Strait of Hormuz there is an underlying thought that American military power could not fully stop Iranian oil exports and that sanctions pressure proved circumventable. In Saudi and Arab commentary on the war of nerves with the Houthis there is an understanding that the US can bomb rebel positions and patrol the Red Sea, but cannot, with a single solution, erase Iranian influence networks from the equation. German analyses of NATO’s future and European defense often repeat the thesis: Washington remains indispensable, but willingness to shoulder global leadership is increasingly in question — and this requires Europe, including Germany, to painfully reassess its own illusions.

Putting together Turkish, Saudi and German voices produces an image of America‑2026 that is very far from the auto‑portrait familiar to an American reader. For Turkey the US is simultaneously a source of sanctions, military support, economic pressure and maneuvering opportunities; a force that controls oil corridors and gas prices, but one that must reckon with Iranian tradecraft. For Saudi Arabia Washington is a security guarantor whose protection always comes with fine print: strikes on enemies can lead to new threats, and a “maximum pressure” policy on Iran turns into maximal uncertainty for the region. For Germany the US remains an anchor of security and the main political partner, but increasingly also a source of economic and strategic headaches, from tariffs and subsidies to the risks of protracted conflicts, costs in which Europeans participate far more generously than American voters.

Across all three countries one common observation stands out: the US is no longer perceived as a monolithic rational actor. Turkish analysts speak of “multiple Americas” within one state; Saudis — of a partner whose support depends on its internal political storms; Germans — of an ally that must be insured by developing one’s own defense capabilities and economic instruments. From an external observer’s perspective this is perhaps the most important change: the world no longer argues about whether the United States is strong or weak; the debate now centers on how predictable that strength is — and how to make policy in the shadow of this new, nervous and contradictory America.

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How the World Sees America: War with Iran, NATO "Fatigue" and Fear of a New Unipolarity

In early April 2026 the image of the United States again became the center of global debate. The reason is obvious: the war of the United States and Israel with Iran, which began on February 28 and led to massive strikes on targets in Iran and retaliatory attacks on American bases in the Middle East, has become the largest American military intervention since Iraq. (ru.wikipedia.org) Against this backdrop, Donald Trump in his second term is simultaneously blackmailing allies with a possible withdrawal from NATO, while inside the United States he is criticized for using an external conflict as a political tool. In South Korea, Russia and Turkey the discussion about Washington runs along different lines, but they intersect in one point: the United States are perceived as a country whose decisions still set the agenda for everyone, but which provoke increasing irritation and distrust.

The main theme uniting the three countries is the war of the United States and Israel with Iran and the recent two-week ceasefire achieved on April 8. (tokengram.ru) The second major storyline is Trump’s threat to “rethink” or even break NATO commitments, which is perceived in Moscow, Ankara and Seoul as a symptom of a serious restructuring of the security system. (reddit.com) Finally, a throughline is the theme of the economic consequences of American policy: from an energy shock in Asia and Turkey to sanctions and financial calculations in Russia.

Different national lenses form around these focal points.

The first and most emotional layer is the perception of the US–Israel war with Iran. In Turkey this war is discussed not as a distant conflict but as a crisis “at the door.” Turkish business and general-political media analyze in detail the talks about the American proposal for a 45-day ceasefire, emphasizing Ankara’s active role as one of the key mediators alongside Pakistan and Egypt. In the piece “ABD-İran hattında temas: 45 günlük ateşkes masada” in Dünya it is said that it is Ankara, together with Cairo and Islamabad, that helps “legitimize” the terms of the ceasefire in Tehran’s eyes and soften America’s ultimatum tone. (dunya.com)

Turkish authors stress that Washington’s proposal is not a humanitarian gesture but an attempt to stabilize markets and restore freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz on terms favorable to the United States and its allies. Anadolu Ajansı’s analysis explicitly states that global markets “are simultaneously watching the ceasefire and US economic growth data,” showing how closely Ankara perceives American military and economic power to be intertwined. (aa.com.tr)

In Russia the tone is quite different: the ceasefire is perceived primarily as a Washington maneuver, not as a path to peace. Komsomolskaya Pravda publishes a conversation with Pavel Podlesny of the Institute of the USA and Canada of the Russian Academy of Sciences under the headline: “‘A new US war with Iran will start in a year’: the ceasefire looks like only a breather.” (kp.ru) Podlesny, one of the prominent Russian specialists on American politics, asserts that for Trump this is only a tactical pause: he accepts the ceasefire, but “tomorrow he will reread ten points of Iran’s plan and declare that it no longer satisfies him,” returning to bombardments. This line fits into a broader narrative of the US as a power that uses war to coerce a security architecture advantageous to itself, but is not ready for serious compromise.

Russian commentators are even more skeptical about Iran’s demands, seeing Tehran’s “ten points” — which call for non-aggression guarantees, removal of sanctions, recognition of the right to uranium enrichment, and payment of compensation — as an unrealistically maximalist set of conditions that the US will never accept. On Monocle.ru an analyst notes that if Washington manages not only to reject these demands but to reformat them into a regional security system with the US as an external guarantor, Trump will be able to present the war as a “forceful imposition of peace.” (monocle.ru)

Turkish press, by contrast, often emphasizes the rationality of the Iranian position. For example, the site F5Haber in the piece “İran'dan ABD'nin ateşkes teklifine ret! Tahran kalıcı barış istiyor” stresses that Iran rejected the American proposal precisely because it did not guarantee either the lifting of sanctions or a long-term end to the war, but only a temporary pause. (cnbce.com) Turkish commentators see this not so much as Tehran’s intransigence as a natural distrust of Washington after years of experience with the nuclear deal and prior military episodes. One column emphasizes that the US “hurried to declare” its proposal the last chance, and then effectively violated the spirit of the ceasefire with strikes carried out in parallel with the negotiations.

In South Korea the war with Iran is covered less emotionally but with a strong focus on economic and energy consequences. In the Asian context the Strait of Hormuz is not only an arena of confrontation between the US and Iran but also a potential “energy bottleneck.” Korean business and geopolitical reviews emphasize that the closure of the strait has already hit oil and gas prices, and combined with rising freight rates and insurance premiums this threatens to undermine the recovery of Korean exports after pandemic and post-pandemic shocks. Korean analysts note that Washington justifies the operation as necessary to ensure freedom of navigation, but in practice “its first victims are Asian energy importers,” forced to pay for a risk they do not control. (smart-lab.ru)

Thus, despite a common dislike of the Iranian theocratic regime and its missile strikes on US bases, Russian and Turkish discourse converge on one point: the United States and Israel are perceived as the parties who introduced the greatest destabilization into the region. In Turkey this is accompanied by the traditional criticism of “Western hypocritical morality” toward Israel; in Russia by a harsher rhetoric about the pursuit of a unipolar world. South Korea, while a US ally, is more restrained, but in the subtext readers are nudged to ask: are we ready to once again pay the economic price for someone else’s ventures?

The second theme actively discussed in the three countries is the threat that the US will leave NATO or radically reduce its participation in the alliance. The formal pretext is Donald Trump’s statements, in which he called NATO a “paper tiger” in interviews with American and European media and hinted that the US might “reconsider” its commitments if allies do not meet his demands on spending and support for American policy on Iran. (reddit.com)

In Russia this is perceived as a long-awaited confirmation of a long-standing thesis: NATO, many Russian experts argue, exists primarily because of American military and political will. The Institute of the USA and Canada of the Russian Academy of Sciences publishes commentary on the “likelihood of the US leaving NATO,” where researcher Alexey Demchuk ponders that even if a formal withdrawal does not occur, the mere fact that this possibility is being discussed already undermines trust in the alliance and opens opportunities for Moscow. (iskran.ru) Russian authors see “strategic fatigue” in Washington — an unwillingness to bear the costs of European security when, as they perceive it, the main front has already shifted to the Middle East and competition with China.

The Turkish perspective is more ambivalent. On one hand, some conservative and nationalist media interpret Trump’s threats as confirmation that Turkey should develop its own defense capabilities and regional alliances, not rely on a “capricious partner” in Washington. On the other hand, many Turkish analysts understand that a formal or informal US departure from NATO would weaken Ankara’s position in Europe and the Caucasus and leave it alone facing both Russia and an ambitious Iran. Column pieces in business outlets frame the dilemma frankly: “NATO without the US is not only weaker for Brussels but far less useful for Ankara.” (dunya.com)

In South Korea, discussion of Trump’s NATO threats automatically transfers to the US–ROK alliance. Korean experts draw parallels: if Trump is ready to so lightly question Article 5 commitments in NATO, how reliable are his guarantees in the event of an escalation with the DPRK or in crises around Taiwan? In April Korean analytical platforms publish pieces that use a “US exit from NATO” as a thought experiment: what would a world look like in which Washington regards military alliances not as a system of long-term commitments but as a set of subscription-style deals — pay up or be left alone. (iskran.ru)

Here an important difference emerges. For Russia NATO weakness is a strategic opportunity. For Turkey it is both a risk and an opportunity. For South Korea it is an almost unconditional threat, because its own security is built around the American umbrella. But in all three cases US actions are interpreted not as a rational adaptation of alliances to a new reality, but as outbursts of unpredictability by a single leader substituting collective strategy with personal political calculation.

The third thread is the economic dimension of American policy, especially in the context of the war with Iran. In Turkey the economic angle literally permeates the narrative. In analytical pieces in Dünya and on the CNBC‑e channel the war is described as a conflict “that for 37 days has deeply affected economies” and amplifies inflationary pressure through rising energy prices. (cnbce.com) Turkish economists warn that even if the two-week ceasefire holds, markets will remain hostages to any Trump tweet-threat against Iran or any strike on Hormuz. A country that has not yet exited its own inflationary turbulence perceives American decisions as an external shock to which it will have to adapt but which it cannot change.

In Russia economic discussions run along different lines. On one hand, analysts discuss the dynamics of the American stock market and investor reactions to the ceasefire, as seen in trader Alexander Pshikin’s review analyzing how Trump’s statements about halting bombings for two weeks are perceived by the markets. (tenchat.ru) On the other hand, business press and expert Telegram channels maintain a throughline: can Moscow use America’s entanglement with Iran to ease sanction pressure, redirect oil and gas flows, and strengthen its own position in relations with China and countries of the “Global South”?

South Korean analysts, for their part, discuss not only energy prices but also prospects for technological and trade competition between the US and China amid the Iranian crisis. For Seoul the question is: will Washington keep its focus on technological restrictions on Beijing and support for “friendly” supply chains, given that a significant share of military and diplomatic resources is now absorbed by the Iran front? If the US relaxes economic pressure on the PRC, Korean firms risk being caught between two giants in a tougher competitive environment. (maily.so)

It is also important how all three countries assess internal American politics in connection with the war. Russian-language sites and newspapers, relying on English-language sources and their own analysis, actively discuss how Trump’s domestic opponents call the campaign against Iran “the Epstein war” or “Operation ‘Epstein’s Fury,’” implying that the aim is to distract attention from publications related to financier Jeffrey Epstein’s case. (ru.wikipedia.org) This is presented as an illustration of deep polarization in American society and the cynicism of elites for whom external war is a continuation of internal political games.

Turkish and, to a lesser extent, South Korean commentators also note that Trump clearly uses the Iranian crisis to bolster his own image as a “tough leader” willing to disregard international institutions from the UN Security Council to the IAEA. For Turkey, which itself has a complicated history with Western institutions, this is a double signal: on the one hand, criticism of the UN and the IAEA resonates with part of the Turkish establishment; on the other hand, America’s demonstrative disregard for multilateral formats calls into question the predictability of any agreement in which Washington plays a key role. (tr.euronews.com)

Against this background it is particularly telling how local actors in the three countries understand their own role. Turkey actively emphasizes its mediator mission — Euronews Turkey reports that it was Ankara, together with Cairo and Islamabad, that prepared the draft 45‑day ceasefire and the mechanism for opening the Strait of Hormuz. (tr.euronews.com) This allows the Turkish elite to speak of itself as a “regional power” able to speak with Washington and Tehran alike, and thus partially compensate for the asymmetry in relations with the US.

In Russia, by contrast, the elite positions the country as a counterweight to American hegemony. Peskov’s comments about “Trump’s threats to Iran” and expert assessments from ISKRAN, regularly cited in Russian media, cement the image of the US as a force pursuing a policy of “reformatting” the entire Middle East to suit its interests, with the ceasefire merely the latest instrument of pressure. (gazeta.ru) In this context Russia presents itself in its own narrative as a defender of international law and multilateral formats, despite Western countries perceiving it differently.

South Korea finds itself in a more complicated, less vocal position. For Seoul the US remains a key ally, and public criticism of American policy is fairly restrained. But within expert discourse the idea of “strengthening strategic autonomy” is gaining louder voices — not as a break with Washington but as diversification of risks: building up defense capabilities, expanding dialogue with other Asian democracies, and carefully exploring forms of engagement with China that could mitigate the consequences of any new American campaign, whether in the Middle East or elsewhere. (maily.so)

Bringing together these disparate reactions, several common motives become visible. The first is growing skepticism about whether the US still serves as guarantor of the “international order.” In Turkey and Russia this is articulated plainly: American actions toward Iran and threats regarding NATO are interpreted as steps that erode trust in the very institutions Washington has long promoted. In Trump’s second term US foreign policy increasingly looks through the prism of deals rather than rules.

The second motive is fear of economic shocks caused by American decisions. In Ankara and Seoul discussions about the US are more and more framed not in terms of values or ideology but through the lens of inflation, access to energy and supply chain stability. The war with Iran, directly affecting the Strait of Hormuz, became a vivid example of how Washington’s strategic games immediately hit wallets in Istanbul and Seoul.

The third is awareness of one’s own agency. Turkey uses the Iranian crisis to boost its status as a mediator and regional player, Russia to strengthen its image as an alternative center of power, South Korea to accelerate, albeit cautiously, debate about strategic autonomy. Paradoxically, it is American unpredictability that spurs others to seek ways to live in a world where the US remains a key actor but can no longer claim to be the sole architect of order.

As a result, today’s conversation about the United States in Seoul, Moscow and Ankara is not just a set of reactions to specific Washington decisions. It is a broader contest over what the world will look like after the current Iranian crisis and a possible transformation of NATO. For some it is a chance for a more multipolar order; for others a source of anxiety and the need for a delicate balance. But for all three it is a reminder that America remains a central player whose moves are long perceived not as a given but as a problem that must be contained or played to one’s advantage.

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How the World Reads Washington Today: China, Saudi Arabia and Brazil on the US

By early April 2026, the image of the United States in the world is once again being assembled like a mosaic from the shards of wars, sanctions, the dollar and grand words about freedom. The US–Israel operation against Iran, which began on February 28, the subsequent two‑week pause in fighting, Donald Trump’s threats to “destroy a country in one night,” record federal debt, and anxious oil trading through the Strait of Hormuz — all of this has become the lens through which Beijing, Riyadh and Brasília are reassessing Washington. But more important than what America does is how local elites and public opinion perceive it — and the differences there are as interesting as the similarities.

The main international theme is the US and Israel’s war with Iran and the two‑week pause in hostilities announced on April 8. Chinese central media refer to the “two‑week truce” cautiously, asking whether it will be a “pause or a comma” in the conflict, and emphasize the destructive consequences for the regional economy and the security of the entire Middle East. (finance.sina.com.cn) In Saudi Arabia, the same ceasefire is presented as a hard‑won diplomatic success of mediation by Pakistan and the Gulf states; the kingdom’s foreign ministry in an official statement welcomed the agreement between the US and Iran and linked it to “hopes for sustainable de‑escalation and respect for the sovereignty of regional states.” (spa.gov.sa) In Brazil the war appears remote but important as a marker of how willing Washington is to take risks to preserve its influence and control over energy markets; Latin American commentary mixes criticism of “imperialism” with pragmatic interest in how the crisis will affect oil, the dollar and room for maneuver within BRICS. (sohu.com)

In China the US–Iran confrontation is primarily viewed as a symptom of broader instability in the system built by the United States. Major portals and newspapers both recount the chronology of fighting and discuss what a war in the Hormuz zone — through which up to a fifth of the world’s oil and a significant volume of LNG flows — means for Beijing. In one popular Chinese analytical column on “accelerated dedollarization,” based on a rethinking of the 1970s US–Saudi oil‑dollar arrangement, it is stated bluntly: wars like the current campaign against Iran “undermine confidence in the dollar as a safe haven” and push energy producers toward diversifying settlement currencies and foreign‑exchange reserves. (sohu.com)

Chinese authors also emphasize a point rarely discussed in the US: the weaker American control appears over the security of sea lanes and over Gulf allies, the greater the incentive for regional countries and the global South to seek alternative protective “umbrellas.” In an article analyzing market reactions to the escalation and the subsequent truce it is stated plainly: if at some point the US decides to drastically reduce its military presence in the region, “Israel’s voice will become unprecedentedly loud,” and countries like Saudi Arabia will be forced to rely even more either on Tel Aviv or on Beijing and Moscow. (wenxuecity.com) This perspective is typically Chinese: it inverts the American question “how to retain influence” into “how the power vacuum is being redistributed.”

The Saudi discourse treats the US–Israel war with Iran in a far less theoretical way: it is happening next door and involves Saudi bases, albeit formally within a broad security architecture. Local commentators openly admit that balancing between Washington and Tehran is no longer possible. A number of Arabic‑language analyses in recent weeks state that the “policy of equidistance from all” collapsed under the pressure of an “American ultimatum: either with us or against us,” backed by offers of huge investment and arms packages, as well as threats of sanctions and political isolation. (huxiu.com)

This motif is especially vivid among authors close to Gulf think tanks: they describe how step by step Saudi Arabia and the UAE moved away from the image of “neutral brokers” between Iran and the US and became “key support nodes of the American military machine.” One Saudi column states outright: in March 2026 Riyadh and Abu Dhabi “tore off the mask of neutrality,” which sharply increased the effectiveness of US Air Force strikes on Iranian territory, but at the same time increased the vulnerability of Gulf infrastructure to retaliatory attacks. (finance.sina.com.cn) The leitmotif here is compulsion: the US is portrayed less as a desirable patron than as an inevitable “structural factor” to which one must adapt.

Brazil offers a very different vantage point. In the Brazilian press the key to understanding the US war with Iran lies on another plane: it is not only a conflict for regional dominance but also a struggle over who sets the rules of the global economy, including the energy sector. Columns in major outlets discuss how a prolonged conflict would hit oil and food prices and, therefore, inflation and social moods in Brazil itself; alongside this comes the theme of BRICS as an alternative platform on which to contest Washington’s unipolarity. (sohu.com) Unlike in China, where the discourse is about technological and financial system‑to‑system rivalry, and unlike in Saudi Arabia, where the US is both guarantor and source of direct risks, in Brazil the motive is stronger: how to exploit a weakening of American dominance without entering into open confrontation.

A second major throughline is American domestic politics and Donald Trump’s leadership style, which outside the US are seen no longer as a show but as a source of global shocks. Spanish‑ and Portuguese‑language pieces on the war with Iran quote at length Trump’s statement that the US “could destroy a country in one night,” and his claim that Iranians allegedly “want to be bombed so they can live in freedom.” (elpais.com) In the Latin American context such phrases are read as demonstrations not only of strength but of contempt for the sovereignty of others — and inevitably evoke parallels with Washington’s history of interventions in the hemisphere, from 20th‑century coups to contemporary sanctions campaigns.

It is no accident that in one Chinese publication, relying on surveys of the Latin American press, the formula appears: “Washington’s policy toward the Middle East today extends to the Western Hemisphere.” The same piece emphasizes that for Latin America the current Trump is not an abstract figure “across the ocean” but a direct factor influencing credit ratings, access to dollar liquidity and migration dynamics. (paper.people.com.cn) Brazilian authors, often writing from a left‑critical perspective, see in the combination of militarism and fiscal irresponsibility — US federal debt exceeded $39 trillion shortly after the campaign against Iran began — confirmation that the model of “war on credit at the expense of the rest of the world” is running out of steam. (sohu.com)

In China the figure of Trump appears in two roles. The first — architect of escalation toward Iran, having revived a “maximum pressure” policy and laid the groundwork for the current conflict in earlier years. The second — a domestic political actor who, in Chinese interpretations, uses external crises to consolidate his base ahead of midterm congressional elections. On Chinese official briefings the US State Department is mentioned far less often than Trump himself; Beijing, in effect, personifies American foreign policy, which allows it to criticize it as “adventurous and irresponsible” without breaking the rhetoric of “people to people” ties. (bi.china-embassy.gov.cn)

Beijing, Riyadh and Brasília assess the American role in the world economy differently, but all three discourses show a common nerve: the resilience of the dollar‑centric system and the shadow of war looming over it. Chinese economic and political commentators actively discuss the “dollar–oil–Treasuries” nexus that since the 1970s has relied on the US–Saudi alliance. One recent Chinese analysis directly links Trump’s march into the region, including multibillion‑dollar investment and arms packages for Riyadh, to a renewal of this informal “petrodollar deal.” But it also warns: the longer the war with Iran lasts, the stronger the incentive for Gulf countries to expand settlements in yuan and other currencies to reduce dependence on Federal Reserve decisions and US sanction policy. (sohu.com)

In Saudi Arabia the theme of the dollar and the US takes on a more pragmatic hue. Official discourse, including statements by the Saudi foreign ministry and interviews of the Chinese ambassador to the kingdom with Arab media, emphasizes that US trade and sanction practices, especially the imposition of unilateral tariffs, “create uncertainty and instability for the global economy, affecting the interests of developing countries, including Middle Eastern states.” (mfa.gov.cn) Here the US is no longer only a military guarantor but also a source of risk to the investment climate. At the same time local economic commentators discuss how the war and oil price swings could push the kingdom to diversify its economy faster so that national security is less tightly bound to a volatile oil market controlled by the dollar.

The Brazilian perspective adds a social layer. Analysts link American decisions — from the Fed funds rate to sanctions and Middle Eastern wars — to the ability to carry out domestic reforms: how to shorten the workweek without losing productivity, how to keep the exchange rate stable without excessive reliance on external dollar‑denominated debt. One study discussed in Brazilian media poses the question directly: what productivity must Brazil deliver to reduce working hours without falling prey to external shocks, and how should global crises provoked by major powers be accounted for in these calculations. (arxiv.org) In this context the US appears not only as a military superpower but as the chief generator of macroeconomic “tsunamis” to which Latin American countries must adapt.

Another notable line, more often heard in Chinese and Brazilian discourse than in the Saudi, concerns the state of American democracy and society. Chinese state media carefully cite FBI reports on rising cybercrime and fraud, especially schemes involving people impersonating government officials: in 2025 such scams, by official figures, cost American citizens nearly $800 million, and the number of complaints rose almost 50% year on year. (news.cn) This storyline fits a broader Chinese line: to portray the US as a country riven by internal problems — from crime to political radicalization — thereby calling into question Washington’s moral right to lecture others.

Brazilian columns, less tied to a state agenda but sensitive to populism, draw parallels between Trump’s America and their own experience of right‑ and left‑wing waves. For them the US is a laboratory where symptoms of the crisis of liberal democracy appear earlier than elsewhere: polarization, media bubbles, a sharp conflict between metropolitan and peripheral electorates. In Trump’s threats to Iran and blunt judgments toward allies — from Spain to certain NATO members — they see the continuation of the same logic: foreign policy becoming an extension of domestic campaigning rather than the other way around. (bi.china-embassy.gov.cn)

A special layer is attitudes toward American technologies and, more broadly, US–China competition in AI. For Beijing this is a natural continuation of the discourse on a “systemic clash”: recent scientific papers by Chinese research groups directly compare Chinese and American large language models, stressing that “the world’s ten leading LLM developers remain concentrated in two countries” and that AI is becoming a field not only of commercial but also of value competition. (arxiv.org) Chinese commentators also point to the wave of disinformation around the US‑Iran war — from fakes alleging US AI platforms’ role in eliminating Iranian leaders to an avalanche of AI‑generated “retractions” — as an example of how US technological leadership can translate into chaos in the information space. (westca.com)

In Saudi Arabia the theme of American technological leadership is more often woven into discussions of investment deals and modernization projects: becoming a hub for AI and high tech while preserving sovereignty over data and critical infrastructure. In this narrative the US is a key supplier of technology and arms, but also a competitor for influence over digital platforms through which public opinion is shaped. Hence the interest in alternatives, including Chinese solutions, and caution on content and data regulation.

Finally, all three countries show a tendency to embed America in a broader narrative of an epochal shift. In China this is done through the thesis of an “unstable world that needs a stable China,” offered in response to questions about how Beijing reacts to the US–Iran war and the confrontation with Washington. (bi.china-embassy.gov.cn) In the Saudi discourse it appears in talks about the need for a “multipolar Middle East,” where the US will remain an important player but not the sole security guarantor. In Brazil it takes the form of the global South no longer wanting to be merely the object of decisions made in Washington.

The picture that emerges from Chinese, Saudi and Brazilian voices is far from black‑and‑white. The US is simultaneously perceived as threat and support, as guarantor of the status quo and its destroyer, as a necessary partner and a system to be guarded against. But there is one common denominator: almost nowhere is Washington any longer seen as the default center of the world. The war with Iran, the dollar, AI, internal crises — these are all elements of the same process in which China, Saudi Arabia and Brazil are not just reacting to the US but increasingly reshaping their own strategies around it. For Americans themselves this shift in perspective may still be barely visible, but in Beijing, Riyadh and Brasília it has already become everyday newspaper reality.

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How Australia, South Korea and Germany View America in an Era of New Wars and Old Alliances

The American agenda is dominating global news again, but today it looks different than it did a few years ago. For Australia, South Korea and Germany the United States is at once an indispensable ally, a source of threats to their own security and economies, and a moral dilemma. the new US and Israeli war against Iran, the crisis around the Strait of Hormuz, Donald Trump’s talk of being “tired” of allies and scaling back engagement in international organizations intertwine with domestic debates in these countries about dependence on Washington, the future of NATO, and the price paid to sustain the “American order.”

Several closely linked issues are now in the spotlight: the US war with Iran and strikes on Venezuela; the Trump administration’s attempt to shift military responsibility for the Strait of Hormuz onto allies; heated debates in Australia and South Korea about military alliance with the US; Germany’s fear of Washingtonian protectionism and a possible weakening of NATO; and, finally, a deeper concern: the decline of the US’s reputation as a bearer of international norms and human rights.

One of the key flashpoints has become the 2026 war against Iran and the related campaign in the Strait of Hormuz, through which a significant share of the world’s oil exports passes. After US and Israeli strikes on Iranian targets and an escalation in the strait, Trump publicly called on the “countries of the world that receive oil through Hormuz” to “take care” of that sea lane militarily themselves. The next day a number of allies — Germany, Spain, Italy, Estonia, the United Kingdom, Australia, South Korea and Japan — openly rejected that call, as did the European Union as a whole. That collective “no” became a symbolic gesture: Washington can no longer automatically assume that allies will stand shoulder to shoulder with it in every military campaign. It is precisely this crossroads — where the boundary of solidarity with the US lies — that is now being debated in the three countries under consideration. (en.wikipedia.org)

Australia found itself in an especially awkward position: on the one hand, it is part of AUKUS and deeply tied into American military infrastructure; on the other — its involvement in the war with Iran triggered unprecedentedly harsh domestic criticism of the alliance with Washington. As early as March 2026 Prime Minister Anthony Albanese had to acknowledge that three Australian servicemen were aboard an American submarine that sank an Iranian frigate off the coast of Sri Lanka. That episode became a vivid example of how deeply Australia is drawn into US operational activity, even when formally the role is described as “supporting an ally.” (en.wikipedia.org)

Against this background Australian critics speak no longer of isolated episodes but of a “pattern” — a chain of “American wars” into which Canberra is drawn almost automatically. Greens leader Larissa Waters, in a recent statement on the ceasefire in Iran, called what is happening “an illegal and chaotic war of choice by the US” and demanded that it become “a turning point when Australia finally breaks free of US chains and begins to pursue truly independent defence and foreign policy.” She condemned the government’s decision to support US and Israeli strikes, to send military resources to the region and to “turn a blind eye to Trump’s escalation of threats,” which, she said, sends the world a signal that Australia is willing to accept “the collapse of international norms as acceptable.” The statement was published on the Australian Greens’ website and in effect calls for a rethinking of the entire alliance. (greens.org.au)

One of the sharpest pieces appeared in the independent outlet Crikey under a headline that in its English original reads as a call for an “urgent conversation about how the US is harming us.” The author reminded readers that Albanese himself said on April 8, 2026: “The United States is our most important ally… relations are built on many levels between leaders, armed forces, economies, business and people.” But following that quote the column carefully dissects how this “multi-level” alliance, critics argue, turns Australia into an accomplice of ventures that threaten its security and draw it into confrontation with China and Iran. The author effectively asks: if even the US’s closest allies refuse to follow Trump into Hormuz, isn’t it time for Canberra to stop treating participation in American operations as something almost automatic? (crikey.com.au)

Similar, albeit more restrained, motives are heard in South Korea. Seoul’s decision to refuse Trump’s request to send naval ships to the Strait of Hormuz is interpreted by local analysts as an important signal: a country that has lived for decades under the American “nuclear umbrella” and hosts US forces is not prepared to automatically expand its military role beyond the Korean Peninsula for Washington’s sake. The Korean press discusses how such a refusal, shared with European countries and Australia, reduces reputational risk: Seoul does not look like it is alone in defying the US; rather, it becomes part of a broader front of allies saying “no” to a specific Trump demand. At the same time political scientists emphasize that this is not about breaking with America — on the contrary, interest is growing in the idea of a more “symmetrical” alliance in which South Korean interests and constraints are taken as seriously as American ones. (en.wikipedia.org)

In Germany the fatigue with what seems like an endless sequence of American military and foreign-policy crises drawing Europe in directly or indirectly is particularly noticeable. For Germany 2026 became a moment when three negative trends coincided: a sharp drop in favorable views of the US in opinion polls, growing fear of Washington’s protectionist trade policies, and a new wave of debate about NATO’s future against reports that Trump is supposedly “considering” pulling the US out of the alliance. In a recent international press review on Deutschlandfunk discussing the ceasefire in Iran, Japan’s Asahi Shimbun was quoted as saying that Trump’s threats to “destroy an entire civilisation in Iran” seriously damaged the image of the US. And the Australian Sydney Morning Herald, whose position the German broadcaster also relays, notes that the war started by Trump could raise oil and energy prices for a long time, including inside the US, accelerate global inflation and slow growth. For German listeners this shows that criticism of Trump and concerns about the consequences of his policies resonate both in Asia and among traditional Anglo-allied countries. (deutschlandfunk.de)

On a deeper level in Germany attention is focused on the economic consequences of “America First.” In a brief report by the Institut der deutschen Wirtschaft on the possible impact of the new US administration on business, it is stressed that German companies primarily fear competitive losses and trade and export restrictions in the event of confrontational economic policies from Washington. According to the survey, about 10% of companies expect “strong” sales restrictions due to protectionist tariffs, another 22% believe they will be affected “moderately.” Almost 40% of industrial firms expect a significant deterioration in competitiveness due to differences in energy costs, and another 22% cite US’s laxer environmental standards. Thus American policy is seen not only as a geopolitical challenge but also as a factor undermining Germany’s industrial base. (econstor.eu)

This economic dimension is especially noticeable when compared with political anxieties about NATO. German media and even popular discussion platforms express scepticism: should Europe continue to rely unconditionally on the US, if in Washington there are louder threats to leave the alliance or “pull back” from international organizations? One high-profile discussion that gained traction in the German internet segment revolved around news that Trump was allegedly “considering” a US withdrawal from NATO. Users and some commentators pointed out that such threats provoke a dual reaction: on the one hand, fear of a “motherless” Europe; on the other, an understanding that a break with the US could free the continent from entanglement in a potential conflict with China or from participation in long wars in the Middle East — like the current campaign against Iran. More knowledgeable discussants reminded others that US law after 2023 explicitly stipulates that the president cannot unilaterally withdraw the US from NATO without the approval of two-thirds of the Senate or a separate act of Congress. This legal nuance reassures part of the German audience but does not remove political doubts: if the person in the presidency systematically undermines trust in US commitments, can NATO still be considered unshakeable? (reddit.com)

Interestingly, another aspect of “American pressure” has been repeatedly discussed in Germany — the US State Department’s human rights reports on various countries. In one analytical piece by the Bundestag’s scientific service it is stated that Washington’s annual reports reflect not only universal human rights concerns but also “specific priorities and debates within the US itself.” Particular irritation was caused by the 2025 assessment placing Germany worse than some Latin American countries such as El Salvador, which was perceived as a political signal rather than a neutral human-rights analysis. In the German interpretation this looks like an example of Washington’s “moralising,” which at the same time condemns human-rights violations abroad while waging a war that causes mass casualties and breaches international norms. (bundestag.de)

In Australia these moral contradictions are joined by a very concrete and material question: what does the American alliance give and what does it take away. On the one hand, the US is the largest investor in the Australian economy, a key security partner and the initiator of the unprecedented AUKUS project that envisages transferring nuclear submarine technology to Australia. On the other hand, that same AUKUS and participation in the war against Iran put Canberra in the firing line. Opponents of the current course draw a direct comparison with the Iraq war: then Australia followed the US into a conflict later judged to be mistaken and illegal; today the risks look similar. For them the point where Germany, Australia and South Korea all said “no” to Trump’s demands over Hormuz symbolizes the possibility of a different scenario: solidarity not “with everything America does,” but only with what truly serves the interests of these countries and conforms to international law. (en.wikipedia.org)

The South Korean perspective is also coloured by regional threats: amid growing pressure from China and ongoing crises with North Korea, Seoul cannot afford a radical break with the US, but local commentators argue it can — and should — more firmly define the limits of its support. Refusing to participate in the operation in the Strait of Hormuz is presented as an example of such “selective” loyalty. South Korean expert columns stress that the country is already investing in strengthening regional security architecture — from trilateral formats with the US and Japan to participation in sanctions regimes against the DPRK and Russia — and that further “globalisation” of Korea’s military role for Washington could trigger domestic political polarization similar to that seen in European countries. (en.wikipedia.org)

Some European commentary cited by the German press brackets out even the specific figure of Trump and speaks of a more general shift: the US is increasingly abandoning multilateralism as the main framework of foreign policy. German expert discourse discusses Washington’s decision to withdraw from several dozen international organizations and commissions at once — a step called in one analytical review a deepening “exit from global institutions.” In internet discussions Germans compare this to Brexit, but now carried out by a superpower: if London left the European Union, Washington is abandoning a chunk of the postwar architecture it helped build. For the German elite this is not only a political problem but a systemic challenge: how viable is a world in which the United States is no longer the “guard dog” of international norms but becomes one more major actor pursuing primarily its own interests? (reddit.com)

All these debates in Australia, South Korea and Germany are united by one implicit but important idea: the image of the US has ceased to be unambiguous. In Australia America is simultaneously a security lifeline and a source of risk of being drawn into new “foreign wars.” In South Korea it is a guarantor against the North Korean threat, but also a partner that may demand too high a price for its protection. In Germany it is a key economic and military ally, but at the same time a state whose domestic politics (“America First,” protectionism, political polarisation) is increasingly seen as a destabilizing factor.

Notably, voices in all three countries are calling not for anti-Americanism but for “emancipation” — greater autonomy while preserving alliances. Australian critics demand to “cut the ties” insofar as automatic participation in wars is concerned, but they do not advocate a complete break with the US. German economists and political scientists seriously discuss strengthening European strategic autonomy while not denying the need for NATO. South Korean analysts propose a model in which Seoul remains in a close alliance with Washington but consistently refuses to take part in operations not directly related to Korean security.

From an international-relations perspective this may be the main change: the US remains a central power, but its allies no longer see it as an unconditional moral and political guide. They are learning to say “yes” and “no” based on their own calculations, not reflexively. And the more often in Berlin, Canberra or Seoul people ask “what price are we paying for this alliance?”, the harder it will be for Washington to maintain the level of global influence it has been accustomed to since the postwar decades.

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The World Watches Washington: How South Korea, Australia and Ukraine Experience "Trumpization"

In April 2026, global discussion about the United States revolves around three intersecting narratives: the US and Israel's war with Iran and the threat to close the Strait of Hormuz; the revival of a Trumpist logic of pressuring allies; and the fate of Ukraine amid American reorientation of resources and a declared retreat from the role of "chief sponsor of the war." South Korea, Australia and Ukraine are talking about the same actor — Washington — but each through the prism of its own fears: for Seoul, questions of survival in the nuclear shadow of the DPRK and energy security; for Canberra, the risk of being drawn into another "someone else's war" in the Middle East and the AUKUS dilemma; for Kyiv, the balance between dependence on the US and the fear of becoming a bargaining chip in a grand deal with Moscow and Tehran.

The first major thematic block is the Iran war and the Hormuz crisis. For Australia this is currently the main American issue: it was the US, led by Donald Trump, and Israel that began strikes on Iran, prompting the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and a spike in energy prices. The Australian government formally supported the US decision, underscoring solidarity with "the Iranian people's struggle against oppression," as Prime Minister Anthony Albanese noted, but at the same time carefully distances itself from direct participation. When a US submarine involving Australian personnel under AUKUS sank an Iranian frigate, it sparked a wave of questions within Australia about the legal responsibility of the US and its allies and about potential war crimes, as lawyers began to discuss the compliance of the actions with the norms of the Geneva Conventions.(en.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop of official "cautious approval," a de facto revolt against intervention is growing in the Australian public sphere. The left weekly Green Left published a report from a "global day of action against US bases," where activists explicitly call AUKUS "the language of an imperial war machine: first stoke fear, then declare war inevitable and suppress democratic debate." The piece also notes a shift within the ruling Labor Party itself — some rank-and-file members are demanding a review of AUKUS and distancing from Washington's aggressive steps.(greenleft.org.au)

The sharpest voices come from academic and center-left experts. In an analytical article in The Diplomat, an Australian political scientist argues why Australia should not participate in a "Trump-led invasion of Iran": in his view it is "a convergence of strategic uncertainty, doubtful legitimacy and misalignment with our national interests." The author recalls the experiences of Iraq and Afghanistan and emphasizes that drawing Canberra into yet another Middle East campaign on an American script would undermine Australia's regional agenda in the Indo-Pacific.(thediplomat.com)

This pacifist-pragmatic mood is confirmed on less formal platforms as well. On Australian forums and Reddit communities the dominant formula is: "We don't want any part in the US and Israel's war with Iran." Commenters complain that the conflict raises fuel and living costs, criticize Trump as a "petulant" leader and demand that the government "keep ships away from Hormuz." One of the most cited international law scholars, Professor Ben Saul, stresses that "supporting unlawful aggression against Iran would be the worst thing Australia could do," and urges countries like Australia and Canada to "push the US to respect international law."(reddit.com)

In South Korea, the Iran war theme is intertwined with the familiar North Korea dimension. Conservative and centrist Korean outlets view US strikes on Iran through the lens of lessons for deterring the DPRK and China. One major newspaper, analyzing a Wall Street Journal perspective that the US ultimately "allowed North Korea to become a nuclear power," notes: if Washington is forced to keep a significant portion of its military resources in the Middle East, "extended deterrence" on the Korean Peninsula will become more rhetorical than practical. At the same time, another Korean paper in a recent editorial on the Hormuz situation directly called the current era "an even harsher time of power," where the chance for small and medium powers to survive lies "in combining their own strength with properly structured alliances."(v.daum.net)

Seoul is especially pained by the new American leadership's statements that allies should raise defense budgets to 5% of GDP. In the Japanese context this has already provoked open irritation, but the Korean discourse is very similar: American "dollarism" and the "requirement to pay for security" heighten the vulnerability of countries on the frontline — against the DPRK and China.(ytn.co.kr)

Ukraine perceives the Iran campaign as a potential start of "Ukraine fatigue" in the US. Russian- and Ukrainian-language commentary is multiplying that notes the US budget draft for fiscal 2027 contained no line for military and financial support to Kyiv, as Kremlin special representative Kirill Dmitriev stated, stressing that Washington "refused to allocate money and weapons to Ukraine." Ukrainian and pro‑Russian authors interpret this signal differently: some see the risk of a gradual winding down of aid under the pretext of the Iran war; others view it as a tactical move to pressure Kyiv in negotiations.(crimea.ria.ru)

From this grows the second major storyline — the "Trumpization" of US alliance policy and partners' nervousness. In Seoul, Canberra and Kyiv they are discussing the same question: can the current US administration at any moment "switch off" obligations if they cease to serve Trump's domestic political interests? In South Korea this is discussed cautiously but regularly. The Korean press reminds readers that even before Trump's return the "Trump risk" in talks over defense spending had already emerged, and experts then advised to "close sensitive issues as quickly as possible" to prevent the White House from using them as leverage during campaigns. Now, with the American administration openly demanding multiple-fold increases in allies' defense spending and threatening tariffs for "insufficient loyalty," "self-strength" (자강) becomes the buzzword in Korean analysis. It is interpreted as the need to develop independent capabilities alongside the alliance — an influential editorial in Seoul analyzes this while considering the US operations in Venezuela, the war in Ukraine and a possible Taiwan crisis.(munhwa.com)

In Australia the discussion centers on AUKUS and the status of a "junior partner" in the trilateral pact with the US and the UK. Even before the Iran war, analysts in The Saturday Paper described growing skepticism: the term "post‑alliance" reality — where one cannot automatically rely on American guarantees — has entered experts' vocabulary. Now, against the background of the Iran war, that skepticism is fueled by the belief that Washington is using AUKUS more as an instrument to draw Australia into a broader Middle Eastern confrontation. This is the theme echoed by activists in the anti‑AUKUS coalition, who speak of "alliances forged without public debate and parliamentary consent to subordinate Australia to the logic of American military planning."(abc.net.au)

Ukraine is discussing an even more radical scenario — a US exit from NATO and the formation of a different security architecture. Ukrainian commentators, citing remarks by US senators and leading conservative television channels, discuss a variant in which Washington might unilaterally reduce or completely stop participation in Europe's collective defense. One analyst in a Ukrainian outlet notes that in the event of a conventional war without nuclear weapons the US could simply declare: "This is not our war; let the Europeans solve the problem themselves," which would effectively shift the burden of deterrence onto the EU and local actors. Paradoxically, some Ukrainian experts see a window of opportunity in such a scenario: Europe, losing the unconditional American umbrella, might view Ukraine as an additional force and the core of a future European defense union.(my.ua)

Against this backdrop the third storyline — the fate of Ukraine itself in the new American configuration — becomes Kyiv's main nerve center. On one hand, Ukrainian officials continue to stress that they are working with the US on a security guarantees agreement. President Volodymyr Zelensky says the document will be revised in the coming days taking into account questions raised by the Ukrainian side, and emphasizes that the invitation for the US negotiating delegation to visit Ukraine remains in effect. Pro‑European Ukrainian media emphasize that the agreement should cover not only a ceasefire but long‑term guarantees, including participation by European partners.(eurointegration.com.ua)

On the other hand, in the Russian‑language media space around Ukraine, comments by Western realists like John Mearsheimer are actively circulating, predicting that Ukraine "will not survive 2026" as an independent state within its current borders, along with assessments that Ukraine's absence from the US 2027 budget draft amounts to a strategic "dump." Such narratives are taken up by Russian and some alternative Ukrainian media, claiming that the US effectively put tough demands on Kyiv — to hold elections and a referendum by mid‑2026 as a condition for further guarantees, and to prepare strikes on Russian energy infrastructure by allied forces instead of direct US participation.(gazeta.ru)

Inside Ukraine this provokes a complex debate: some commentators insist Kyiv should rush to secure a security agreement with the US while Washington is still willing to formalize commitments; others warn that any interim formula that leaves American guarantees effectively limited to arms deliveries and loans without a clear military "red line" turns Ukraine into a "grey zone" — a buffer between the US and Russia. Particularly alarming are Western press scenarios under which Russia might agree to American guarantees for Ukraine only in exchange for recognition of occupied territories — in other words, the de facto partition of the country.(my.ua)

A fourth common theme for South Korea, Australia and Ukraine is the economic fallout of the new American line. In Seoul, stock market analysts write of US policy as a "source of noise" capable at any moment of devastating export‑oriented industries via tariffs, sanctions or new subsidies for American manufacturers. One industry report warns directly that at the start of 2026 "budget renegotiation and radical advancement of Trump's infrastructure and industrial agenda could become a volatility factor for Korean companies" and recommends that investors favor American ETFs tied to infrastructure and energy networks as beneficiaries of the US internal redistribution policy.(bondweb.co.kr)

Australia feels the impact of American decisions through oil and financial markets. Economic reviews note jumps in the Australian dollar and the stock index depending on Trump's aggressiveness or restraint regarding new strikes on Iran: when the president delays attacks and hints at a quick exit from the war, markets breathe a sigh of relief. Analytical columns on Australian television and ABC News share a common thought: "Oil markets cannot rely on Trump the dealmaker," and fuel‑import‑dependent Australia pays for every one of his emotional swings.(abc.net.au)

For Ukraine the economic dimension of American decisions is the harshest: US dollars determine whether Kyiv can continue the war at the current intensity. Reports that in April Ukraine must pay the IMF a quarter of a billion dollars, and discussion of a possible €90 billion EU loan to cover military and budgetary expenses through 2027, underline how tightly the country's fate is tied not only to the US but to the broader architecture of Western financing that Washington largely sets.(ria.ru)

Against this background unique local voices stand out. In South Korea, for example, part of the public debate is strikingly pragmatic: Korean economists and industrialists talk about the need for "preemptive investments" in the US — in the face of Trumpist tariff threats — as a way to "buy political insurance." Columns on the automotive and semiconductor industries argue: "It's too late to protect only the Korean market; we must be players inside America too, so that any trade pressure hits US jobs." This is the Korean response to Trump's "America First" idea: "If you want 'America First' — we'll come to you as employers and investors."(m.mk.co.kr)

Australia demonstrates another type of original reaction — a combination of deep, almost reflexive cultural affinity with the US and growing political distrust. Polls and discussions in the center‑left press show that most Australians still view America positively as a country but regard specific American leaders, especially Trump, with cold irony. In debates over AUKUS one former Australian prime minister sarcastically remarks that Trump "will be amazed to learn Australia signed up to such a stupid deal." This skepticism toward a specific configuration of the alliance, rather than toward the alliance itself, is a subtle nuance rarely noticed from Washington.(en.wikipedia.org)

The Ukrainian perspective is perhaps the most tragic and the most pragmatic at the same time. Within the country a high level of trust in the US as a key partner has been preserved, but among experts there are no longer illusions about the selflessness of American policy. One Ukrainian analyst, discussing a possible US exit from NATO, writes that Washington will begin to think of alliances not as moral obligations but as "a portfolio of assets that can be redistributed at any time." In this context, he argues, Ukraine should maximize how it "capitalizes" its military and political role — from demonstrating the ability to strike Russian energy infrastructure in the West's interest to offering Europe its territory as a platform for a future defense architecture without the US.(my.ua)

Linking these local storylines together reveals a common picture: the world around the US is no longer simply divided into "pro‑American" and "anti‑American." South Korea, Australia and Ukraine — countries that depend on Washington to varying degrees — are developing new, far more conditional formulas of loyalty. For Seoul it is "a strong alliance plus our own power"; for Canberra — "cultural closeness and intelligence cooperation without automatic backing for any US wars"; for Kyiv — "extract maximum guarantees and resources from Washington before American domestic politics completely changes the rules."

And across all three countries another, deeply non‑American motif is audible: the need to think not only about "what Washington wants," but about what their own societies are actually willing to accept. Australian unions and student movements against AUKUS, Korean debates over balancing the US anti‑China strategy with economic vulnerability, Ukrainian debates on the price and terms of peace — all of this speaks to a world in which the US remains a central actor but no longer the sole author of the script.

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The world watching Washington: Germany, Australia and China debate the US

Across different corners of the globe, the United States is now being discussed almost simultaneously in three languages — German, English and Chinese — but the set of issues largely overlaps. The focus is the sharp reformatting of Washington’s foreign policy after Donald Trump’s return to the White House in 2025, the electoral showdown approaching in 2026 with the midterm Congressional elections, a new wave of trade protectionism, and the ongoing conflicts in which the US is in one way or another involved — from the Middle East to Asia. What in American debate often looks like a string of domestic political cyclones is perceived abroad as a single storm affecting the security, economy and political stability of other countries.

Bringing together the voices of Berlin, Canberra and Beijing reveals several key storylines. First, allies in Europe and Asia debate how reliable the American “nuclear umbrella” and the security guarantee system are in the era of “Trump 2.0,” and whether they are ready for a world in which the US alternately intervenes forcefully and pulls back. Second, economists from Frankfurt to Shanghai analyze the consequences of a new tariff escalation that the Trump administration has already begun — especially for export-oriented economies like Germany and for China, traditionally a target of protectionism. Third, observers discuss the state of American democracy: a growing share of “independent” voters, fatigue with constant elections and political polarization provoke not only curiosity abroad but also alarm, because the predictability of the American domestic scene determines the dollar’s course, borrowing costs and investment decisions worldwide. Finally, in China a distinct strand of discussion is devoted to how the “second Cold War” — a phrase already established in both Western and Chinese texts — is reshaping the strategic balance between Beijing and Washington. (toutiao.com)

One of the most noticeable cross-cutting themes is the new configuration of American foreign policy and how allies perceive it. German and Australian authors discuss in parallel how radically Washington’s style has changed: from familiar multilateral formats to unilateral steps, targeted operations and demonstrative pressure on partners. Chinese analysts, for their part, treat the same actions as part of a broader strategy of containing Beijing, seeing many initiatives not as accidental but as a logical continuation of a course that began long before Trump but has taken on a sharper form under him.

In the Chinese journal 当代美国评论 (Contemporary American Studies) one review piece describes the current administration’s foreign policy as a combination of “low-risk, high-return” interventions — pinpoint strikes, sanctions and demonstrative pressure tactics that allow the White House to show resolve without large-scale ground wars. The authors warn that such a strategy creates a constant background of uncertainty for the global economy and pushes other powers — including China — to accelerate building their own financial and technological security systems to reduce dependence on the dollar and American markets. The review directly ties foreign-policy surges to the US electoral cycle: the closer the elections, the greater the temptation to use the international stage as a tool to mobilize the electorate. (toutiao.com)

In Europe, this sense of unpredictability turns into a question about the future of the transatlantic alliance. The German press discusses at length how, after the CDU’s victory and the formation of a new government led by Friedrich Merz, Berlin must simultaneously strengthen its own defense and seek a new balance with the US. In one English-language remark, Merz effectively signaled Washington that Germany is “back in the game” and intends to increase military spending in the face of the threat from Russia and Trump’s new tariff policy, which already affects German manufacturers. Merz’s biography, as German and Russian press remind readers, is closely linked to transatlantic structures, but his current statements increasingly express the theme: Europe must learn to provide for its own security without automatically counting on Washington, including by viewing France’s and the United Kingdom’s nuclear capabilities as a “European shield.” (ru.wikipedia.org)

The Australian debate runs on the same thread but through the prism of the Indo‑Pacific region. Canberra has traditionally relied on the alliance with the US, and amid growing rivalry between Washington and Beijing Australia is simultaneously deepening its participation in AUKUS and carefully calculating the risks of being drawn into a possible conflict over Taiwan or into the Persian Gulf. Australian analysts, drawing on their history of “harmonizing” the alliance with the US and relations with Asia — as described in the 2000s book The Howard Paradox — assess whether that trick can be repeated in a much more severe strategic environment. The prevailing thought: there is no substitute for America as the “strategic guardian” in the region, but its policy has become so variable that Australia has had to invest heavily in its own defense capabilities and regional mini‑alliances so as not to be left alone against China in case Washington changes course. (en.wikipedia.org)

Chinese commentators, by contrast, see these moves — from AUKUS to NATO strengthening and heightened US activity in the Arctic and North Atlantic — as elements of an emerging “second Cold War.” Chinese media frequently cite the Western term “axis of aggression,” which one American author used to describe China, Russia, Iran and North Korea as a bloc opposing the US and its allies. Chinese writers reject that formula as an ideological construct but openly acknowledge that Washington is steadily building a network of “small clubs” — in technology, defense and finance — to limit Beijing’s maneuvering space. At the same time, PRC diplomats in statements and embassy materials in Washington continue to criticize American “exceptionalism” and recall internal US crises, from the Capitol riot to racism and social inequality, as evidence that the “city on a hill” has lost the moral right to lecture others. (zh.wikipedia.org)

Another large block of discussion concerns American domestic politics and its “exportable” effects. In China, American elections are treated almost like a macroeconomic indicator. Articles on economic and analytical portals dissect the balance of power ahead of the 2026 elections: Republicans hold both chambers of Congress, but their margin in the House is minimal and in the Senate only a few seats. Individual reviews examine key Senate races, from Alaska to Texas and Ohio, through the lens of “kitchen‑table issues” — cost of living, health insurance, mortgage insurance premiums. That same commentary points out: the sharper the social problems in the US, the higher the risk that the administration will seek to “vent steam” through tough foreign‑policy moves — from trade wars to demonstrative strikes against “defiant” regimes. (finance.sina.com.cn)

Another important detail in the Chinese debate is the rise in the number of “independent” voters in the US. Relying on Gallup data and analytical material from American media, Chinese authors describe “independents” as the largest political bloc, making up more than 40% of the electorate. For them this is an indicator of the erosion of party identity in the US and growing disillusionment with traditional elites. Texts draw parallels between this phenomenon and the global wave of populism, emphasizing that such “floating” groups can swing the pendulum toward even more radical figures than Trump, or conversely force both parties to moderate. For China this is a key question: whether independents will become the backbone of some “third way” or remain a battleground between Republicans and Democrats affects the predictability of American policy toward Beijing. (china.com.cn)

In Germany, observers view American domestic politics primarily through the prism of its impact on Europe. Political scientists and journalists in Berlin note that the breakup of the “traffic light” coalition at the end of 2024 coincided with Trump’s presidential victory in the US, and many see a symbolic link: a new era of instability has begun on both sides of the Atlantic. In pre‑election debates in Germany the American theme was constantly present: dependence of Europe on US LNG after the break with Russia was discussed, fears of new tariffs on European exports, and the question of how much longer Germany can keep spending to support Ukraine when the main ally — the US — sometimes increases assistance and sometimes signals possible cuts in commitments. This “flashing” of Washington is often described in German commentary as a factor pushing Berlin toward a more independent line, but at the same time as a challenge the country is not yet fully prepared to meet. (my.ua)

Australian commentators, in turn, regard American polarization and another “super‑long” electoral cycle as a chronic source of instability in the region. Articles in Australian international‑relations journals and think tanks point out that every two‑year change in the composition of Congress can shift US foreign policy on issues key to Canberra — from climate to trade and defense. This forces Australia to build strategy not only around the White House but also around Congress, and to strengthen horizontal ties with Japan, India and Southeast Asian countries. A recurring but less prominent point in commentary is irritation that internal American debates — from “culture wars” to immigration — are sometimes exported as pressure on partners over LGBT rights, migration policy or attitudes toward China, which in an Asian context is perceived far less unambiguously than within the US itself. (en.wikipedia.org)

A special layer is Chinese “American studies,” where the US is simultaneously an object of scholarly analysis and a political opponent. Chinese universities and research centers continue to churn out texts on the “structural rivalry” between Beijing and Washington. One recent analytical review emphasizes that with Trump’s return “essentially nothing has changed” in the US line of containing China: both Democrats and Republicans regard Beijing as the main strategic competitor, with differences mainly in style and tactics. According to this logic, Democrats prefer multilateral formats, sanctions and pressure through international organizations; Trump bets on bilateral “deals” and overt pressure, including high tariffs that target not only China but also European allies. This approach is called “arbitrary” and “undermining the global economic system” in Beijing, but it is used there as an argument for accelerating China’s technological autonomy — from semiconductors to seed stocks — a topic explored in detail in articles about American agricultural and technology policy. (toutiao.com)

Against this background Chinese officials and pro‑government authors construct a narrative of moral superiority. Materials from the PRC Embassy in Washington and large state‑affiliated media regularly emphasize that the US, which likes to speak about human rights, itself suffers from systemic racism, police violence, “democratic deficit” and political corruption. Reminding readers of the Capitol riot and the intensification of America’s cultural wars, the Chinese side argues that the myth of “American exceptionalism” has collapsed and the concept of the “city on a hill” no longer works even in the eyes of many Americans themselves. In these texts the US appears less as a model and more as a “negative example,” whose mistakes should push other countries to seek alternative development models, based, Chinese authors claim, on “collective security” and a “community of shared future for mankind.” (us.china-embassy.gov.cn)

Interestingly, at the level of “small” topics the international agenda also picks up American storylines. Germany, which will host some matches of the 2026 World Cup, discusses not only the sporting aspects but also the political background of the largest tournament taking place in the US, Canada and Mexico with ironic distrust. The German newspaper Die Zeit recently asked sardonically about the future World Cup, “who would be happy if Greenland became part of the US,” alluding to Trump’s long‑standing and resurfacing fantasies about purchasing the island and tying them to an image of America in which sport, geopolitics and business are inevitably intertwined. For a European audience this is another reminder that American foreign policy can intrude even into what was traditionally considered “outside politics” — from the Olympics to World Cups. (zeit.de)

Taken together, Germany’s, Australia’s and China’s reactions to today’s US form a complex mosaic. The common note is growing distrust of the predictability of American policy and the realization that a “unified West led by Washington” is no longer an unquestioned given. But paths diverge from there. Germany, despite doubts, still sees the US as the main military shield and economic partner and therefore seeks ways not to fall out with Washington while cautiously building its own autonomy. Australia tries to balance the fear of America withdrawing from the region with concern about being pulled into an overly risky confrontation with China to which Washington might drag it. China perceives the US as a strategic rival whose internal weaknesses and external surges must be simultaneously exploited and neutralized by building a parallel architecture of institutions and norms.

For a reader used to viewing the world through American media, the intonations in these foreign debates are particularly valuable. Where Americans argue about tactics — tariffs, sanctions, operations abroad — people in Berlin, Canberra and Beijing talk about the survival of entire economic models, the future of regional security and whether it is still possible to build long‑term strategy relying on an unpredictable Washington. This shift — from seeing the US as an “anchor” to viewing America as one of the largest sources of global uncertainty — is the main conclusion of the current international discussion about the role of the United States.

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America Back at the Center: War with Iran, Hormuz, and US Turmoil

Almost simultaneously three storylines involving the United States pushed America onto the front pages in Israel, Germany and India. These are the US and Israeli war with Iran and the reshaping of power in the Middle East, the threat of a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and an oil shock, and the rise of domestic turbulence inside the United States — from a nationwide strike to a shooting near the White House. It is along these three lines that today’s global optics on Washington are formed: ally and guarantor, arsonist and unpredictable factor at the same time.

The main nerve of international discussions is the war of the US and Israel with Iran, which began after the failure of negotiations and escalated into large-scale strikes on Iranian territory at the end of February 2026. Israeli and American attacks on Iranian facilities, and in response — Iranian missile strikes on American bases in the Middle East, create the sense that the region has entered a new, far more dangerous phase of conflict. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The Israeli press views events with an exceedingly down-to-earth, almost accountancy-like survival lens. Newsfeeds are filled with reports about those wounded in attacks by Iran and Hezbollah, about US–Iran negotiations involving the Gulf Arab states, and about the fact that Washington’s position affects both Israeli security and freedom of navigation through the Strait of Hormuz. In a review on the Israeli Russian-language portal IL.vesti it is emphasized that the UAE demand firm guarantees from the US to secure passage through Hormuz, while Israel is suffering heavy losses from missile strikes and is preparing for a prolonged confrontation. (il.vesti.news)

Against this backdrop another US-linked story appears almost silently in the country: the participation of 14-year-old granddaughter of the US president, Arabella Trump, in a concert program for Israel’s Independence Day, where she will perform alongside pop star Noa Kirel. Israeli Channel 9 presents this as a sign of close human ties and political alliance: America here is not only aircraft carriers and missiles, but also family, the stage, soft power. (9tv.co.il) In these two storylines — blood and show — the fundamental Israeli attitude toward the US appears: it is a source of vital military and political support, woven into everyday life and culture so deeply that even during a war with Iran America remains both a shield and part of “our own.”

But it is precisely such a war and such dependence that evoke completely different emotions in Germany and, more broadly, continental Europe. The German debate largely proceeds through international sections and analytical pieces in major media, which cite assessments by European and Russian experts: in them, American strategy in the Middle East is described as cynical, governed by the logic of energy blackmail. In a characteristic column published on the Russian-language but widely cited in German discussions portal EADaily, a political scientist asserts that the US and Israel began military actions precisely against the backdrop of negotiations when Iran was making concessions on its nuclear program, and that the goal of the operation is not military triumph but panic in the oil and gas market and rising prices, beneficial to Washington. (eadaily.com)

For part of the German audience, especially the left‑liberal segment, this fits well with a long-standing skepticism toward American foreign policy: the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, now Iran. At the same time, conservative and Atlanticist commentators remind readers that strikes on American bases and Tehran’s threats to close the Strait of Hormuz create a danger to global oil supplies and risk a worldwide recession, and in that logic a forceful US response is the lesser of two evils. Overlaying this is another signal: the UK is convening a London meeting on the Middle East with 40 countries without the US — a move that the Russian outlet Fontanka describes as a symbol that even closest allies seek to discuss settlement separately from Washington, while in Washington itself talks of impeaching the head of the Pentagon for miscalculations in this war are already being heard. (fontanka.ru) From the German perspective this looks like a symptom of “America fatigue”: dependence on the US in security remains, but trust in the White House’s political course is noticeably eroding.

The Indian view, unlike the European one, is far more pragmatic. Major Hindi‑ and English‑language Indian outlets discuss the Iran–US–Israel conflict through the prism of oil, transport corridors and the overall architecture of the global economy. In a video segment about the crisis in the Middle East on Dailymotion, Indian commentators stress that a clash between the US and Iran could have “महत्वपूर्ण प्रभाव” — serious consequences — for the global economy, and therefore for Indian growth, which still critically depends on energy imports. (dailymotion.com)

At the same time India is closely watching the behavior of the Gulf countries, primarily the UAE, which in talks with Washington and Tehran are demanding written guarantees of free passage through the Strait of Hormuz. (il.vesti.news) For New Delhi this is an important signal: if the US cannot or will not guarantee stability in Hormuz, India will have to accelerate a multi-vector energy strategy and reliance on its own transport corridors, from North–South to agreements with Russia and Iran bypassing vulnerable sea routes.

The second major block of international reactions is about how, beyond the US, observers view the logic of American power in this new war. The EADaily column with the intentionally provocative headline about Trump’s “irrationality or strategy” paints a picture where the president’s chaotic tweets and crude threats toward Iran are merely a façade of a carefully calculated game to reboot global energy and redistribute roles among the US, China, Russia and the EU. (eadaily.com) The author asserts that Washington deliberately uses the escalation as a tool to restructure the world order so that America once again becomes the indispensable center of decision-making for allies frightened by price spikes and the risks of new conflicts.

This line is echoed by Russian and some Middle Eastern commentaries that reach audiences in Israel and Germany. On the air of radio “Sputnik in Crimea” expert Igor Shatrov says that “there will be no peace on American terms,” and that the escalation in the Middle East is an attempt by the US to intervene in an ongoing regional reshuffle without being willing to take real responsibility. In his view, Iran and Palestinian forces have already shown they are not ready to capitulate to American diktat, and to end the Arab–Israeli conflict it will be necessary to put the question of the “true instigator” — Israel and its place in the world — on the agenda. (crimea.ria.ru) For German and Indian readers, such comments serve as a reminder: in a region where America considers itself the architect of security, many see it not as an arbiter but as one of the parties to the conflict, sometimes — the principal arsonist.

The third storyline putting the US under the international microscope is domestic instability. Indian news platforms dissect in detail the nationwide strike announced for April 5 in the US, “General Strike 2026” or “Strike26.” In an analytical piece on Dailyhunt the strike is portrayed as a large-scale grassroots movement aimed at creating serious economic disruption, demonstrating public dissatisfaction with the authorities and achieving social and political reforms. (m.dailyhunt.in) Indian commentators draw parallels with their own nationwide strikes and bandhs, noting that America, which for decades lectured others about stability and predictability, is beginning to resemble countries with chronically protest-prone politics.

Against this background the report of a shooting near the White House, which made the Hindi-language roundup of top news on AajTak, looks like another stroke in the portrait of America in deep internal strain. (aajtak.in) For the Indian audience this is not just a crime item: it illustrates how domestic political passions in the US increasingly spill beyond parliamentary procedures and court battles, affecting Washington’s ability to conduct long-term foreign policy.

Interestingly, in Israel the US’s internal crises are discussed with far less emotion. Against the backdrop of Hezbollah missile strikes, civilian evacuations and emergency government meetings, the main American-related question remains: will Washington continue arms supplies, preserve diplomatic cover on international platforms, and how will Trump — under an unrelenting wave of criticism for the escalation with Iran — behave? Israeli commentators closely follow the Congressional debate over limits on the president’s military powers and possible attempts to restrain the White House via the War Powers Act; Western press reports and “Wikipedia” summaries emphasize that even influential Republican congressmen fear Trump is dragging the US into a protracted war without a clear exit strategy. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The Israeli expert community adds its own concern: if new rounds of domestic political warfare over Iran begin in Washington, Israel risks being “alone” facing Tehran and Hezbollah. In an analytical piece by the Israeli center Dor Moriah on Syria and the US published even before the current escalation, it was emphasized that the usual reliance on American presence in the region is increasingly unreliable: polls showed Washington ready to withdraw troops even if that leads to an explosive rise in activity by radical groups. (dor-moriah.org.il) Now, amid the war with Iran, this motif — America as an unreliable, wavering ally — sounds even louder in Israel.

The general tenor of German and broader European reaction is an attempt to distance themselves from American logic without severing allied ties. The report of the UK convening a meeting of 40 countries on Middle East settlement without US participation, cited by Fontanka, is interpreted as an experiment: is it possible at all to discuss the security architecture in the Middle East without Washington at the table — at least at the level of consultations and “soft” coordination? (fontanka.ru) Cautious expert comments appear in the German press noting that the EU has already tried similar formats in the Ukrainian and Balkan contexts, and that the current crisis with Iran could push Europe toward a very different role: not the junior partner to the US, but an independent mediator between Tehran, Jerusalem and Arab capitals.

Finally, in Indian discussions about the US there is another, less conspicuous but telling motif: America as both a mirror and a negative example. Discussing “Strike26,” Indian commentators note that the radicalization of public moods and polarization in the US echo India’s own disputes — from agrarian protests to communal politics — while stressing the difference: in the US such movements are directly tied to global markets, the dollar’s exchange rate and world security. America’s internal crisis automatically becomes an external shock for everyone else.

If one gathers these disparate reactions together, a paradoxical image of the United States at the start of 2026 emerges. For Israel it remains the main security guarantor and vital ally, albeit increasingly anxious and unpredictable. For Germany and much of Europe it is simultaneously an indispensable military partner and a source of strategic instability that hits energy supplies and pushes for alternative formats without Washington. For India it is a critical element of the global economic system whose foreign-policy moves and internal crises directly affect Indian growth, but is not perceived as a moral or political guide.

The war with Iran and the struggle for Hormuz have become a convenient lens through which everything is visible: how Trump and American elites understand global power, how allies in Israel and Europe balance dependence and mistrust, and how countries like India learn to live in a world where the United States remains the strongest player but long ceased to be the sole director of the global stage.

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How the South and East See Washington: War with Iran, Oil and the New "Shield of the Americas"

In early April 2026, global discussion of the United States rarely boils down to abstract "anti-Americanism." In Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Brazil, talk about America is now tied to very concrete things: the US and Israel's war with Iran, fluctuations in oil and gas prices, Washington's pressure on neighboring countries in Latin America and the new security architecture in the hemisphere, and how all this hits the wallets and politics of Ankara, Riyadh and Brasília. If you read only American media, it may seem the main topic is US domestic politics and the White House's rhetoric. But in Turkey, the Gulf countries and Brazil, the US appears primarily as a warring, regulatory, blocking and at the same time indispensable power.

The central recurring theme for all three countries is the war of the US and its allies with Iran, which began after strikes on Iranian leadership and has grown into a broad campaign against Iran's military and nuclear infrastructure. In the Saudi press this war is described as "American-Israeli" and as an event that has changed the entire news landscape: an editorial in Al‑Riyadh directly states that since February 28, 2026 "the order of the global agenda has changed," and media and market attention has shifted from Ukraine to the Middle East, where "escalation, speed of developments, impact on oil prices, energy security and the nuclear balance" have converged, with the United States named as the key actor, increasing its military presence and leading the campaign against Iran. In this logic the US is not an abstract "West" but a specific military player launching a new wave of instability on which the budgets of Gulf states depend.

The Saudi discourse is noticeably ambivalent. On the one hand, official Al‑Riyadh materials constantly stress the importance of stability and echo UN Secretary‑General António Guterres in warning that the world "stands on the brink of a broader war" that will hit poor countries hardest, which are already suffering from rising food and energy prices. One piece quotes his warning about the "colossal consequences" of the ongoing Middle East conflict for the whole world, from which "everyone is already suffering." (alriyadh.com) This reflects the position of the Saudi establishment: not to condemn Washington directly, but to constantly return the conversation to risks for the global economy and the need for de‑escalation.

On the other hand, oil market analysis in the same Saudi media shows a more pragmatic view of the US. In Al‑Riyadh's market review, a price drop of more than 3% is explained in part by "signals from the United States about a possible near end to the war," and an expert from the London Stock Exchange Group says the fall was linked to profit‑taking amid those signals. (a6.alriyadh.com) So even when Washington is perceived as a source of escalation, its hints at a "soon end" to the conflict are immediately factored into market expectations and Saudi discussions of budget policy.

The Brazilian perspective on the same conflict with Iran is much less focused on Gulf security and much more on how American power "spills over" into other regions. Brazilian pieces on the war with Iran currently circulating in the analytical agenda emphasize that the campaign has become the culmination of an overall increase in American military presence in the Middle East: there is notable discussion of carrier deployments, large air groupings and what journalists call "one of the most significant military dispositions since 2003." (pt.wikipedia.org) For the Brazilian audience this is not a "drama in a distant region" but a backdrop for talks about a new US policy across the hemisphere.

It is no coincidence that in the same Brazilian sources the war with Iran is mentioned alongside the "Escudo das Américas" project — "Shield of the Americas," announced by Washington in March 2026 as a new initiative on security and control of migration and drug trafficking in the Western Hemisphere. The appointment of a special US envoy for this initiative is presented as a step toward institutionalizing American leadership over regional operations from the Caribbean to the Amazon. (pt.wikipedia.org) For Brazilian commentators this fits into a broader picture: when the US demonstrates readiness for forceful intervention in the war with Iran, in Latin America the question arises whether the "Shield of the Americas" will become another channel of pressure, including on governments that do not align with Washington.

This anxiety is fueled by recent experience: in 2025 a diplomatic crisis flared between Brazil and the US when Washington imposed 10% tariffs on a range of Brazilian goods and at the same time sharply criticized the human rights and internet freedom situation in Brazil, linking restrictions on access to a social network to "undermining freedom of expression." (pt.wikipedia.org) For the Brazilian public this became an example of how value rhetoric and trade pressure can be combined in one package. So today, amid the war with Iran and debates about the "Shield of the Americas," Brazilian authors are not so much arguing whether the US is "right" as discussing whether Brazil is ready for a new wave of dependence — economic through tariffs and energy markets, and political through regional initiatives under the American umbrella.

A distinct viewpoint opens through the 2026 Cuba crisis, which Brazilian sources directly link to American policy: they emphasize that it was precisely US intervention in Venezuela and the blocking of Venezuelan oil supplies to Cuba that triggered the island's economic and political crisis, and that Washington openly stated its intention to "achieve regime change in Havana by the end of 2026." (pt.wikipedia.org) The fact that, in these conditions, humanitarian aid to Cuba is coming from Mexico while oil support comes from Russia is used by Brazilian analysts as an example: if the US unilaterally redraws the Caribbean energy map, Latin America needs to seek its own autonomous chains of mutual assistance.

Against this background, Turkey views the US through a different prism — geographically closer to the battlefields and economically very sensitive to any shifts in the Iranian and wider Middle Eastern equation. In Turkish reviews of the global economy, the US and its allies' war with Iran figures primarily as a factor influencing commodity prices: analysts at Istanbul brokerage houses note that news that Washington and Tehran were discussing ceasefire terms through intermediaries contributed to rises in platinum and palladium quotations on expectations of "a weakening of geopolitical risks." (gcmyatirim.com.tr) For the Turkish business press the US is a key "risk regulator" in commodity markets: certain formulations from Washington — prices soar; others — the market "switches to a mode of hope."

But behind the dry stock‑market lines lies a more emotional political perspective. In Turkish analytical texts on regional security it is often emphasized that the level of American military concentration in the region is now comparable to preparations for the 2003 Iraq war. (pt.wikipedia.org) This evokes déjà vu among some Turkish commentators: the country again becomes a transport, intelligence and logistics hub for a major US operation, while retaining deep distrust of American aims — especially after recent episodes when Ankara accused Washington of supporting Kurdish forces in Syria and of ambiguous behavior regarding the Black Sea region.

Saudi and other Gulf voices, unlike the Turkish ones, focus more on how the US in this war combines "hard power" and "market diplomacy." In an Al‑Riyadh piece on rising oil prices it is stressed that it was precisely the "fear of escalation between the US and Iran" that spurred hedge funds and traders to mass purchases of Brent options, and analysts say that to prevent a market surplus in 2027 OPEC+ will have to cut production by up to 2 million barrels per day. (alriyadh.com) Thus the US, by its actions in the Persian Gulf, effectively forces exporters into collective juggling with supply. In the Saudi discourse this is presented without direct accusations but with a clear hint: even when we profit from high prices, it is a "feast during the plague" against the backdrop of risks to the global economy and our own diversification plans.

If the military and energy components of American policy are most often presented in Ankara, Riyadh and Brasília as a threat or, at best, a risky factor, Washington's economic measures — tariffs, sanctions, regulations — provoke a more complex mix of irritation and pragmatism. In Brazil the 2025 experience is still fresh, when under the slogan of "protecting its industry" the US imposed 10% tariffs on a range of Brazilian goods while criticizing Brazil for purportedly worsening human rights and the Supreme Court's heavy‑handed measures against social networks. (pt.wikipedia.org) Brazilian experts pointed out that it was the US that ran a trade surplus with Brazil, and saw Washington's rhetoric as an attempt to justify protectionism with talk of "democracy" and "freedom of speech." This lesson is directly carried into today's discussion of the "Shield of the Americas": if the US is ready to punish Brazil economically for its domestic political narratives, why wouldn't it use the new security initiative to press on issues such as China's presence in Latin America?

The Turkish economic discourse is less focused on bilateral tariffs with the US, but repeatedly returns to dollar dependence. In reviews of Turkey's currency and commodity markets, the dollar's exchange rate against the lira and other regional currencies is cited as the main barometer, and Fed decisions and US macro data are directly linked to the resilience of Turkish growth. (terayatirim.com) In this sense for the Turkish audience the US is not only a military power but also the issuer of the world reserve currency, through which Ankara experiences both pressure (via higher costs of external debt) and opportunities (via inflows of portfolio investment). The current war with Iran and the associated rise in the risk premium on emerging markets make this duality especially acute.

In the Gulf countries the economic angle is even more tightly bound to the oil agenda. Saudi analytical pieces openly say that regional GDP of the GCC countries in 2026, according to Western institutions' estimates, may even slightly shrink despite high prices, because: first, uncertainty persists around the US and Israel's war with Iran and its impact on energy supplies; and second, production limits and problems with tourism hit the economy. (alriyadh.com) In these calculations the US is both the main risk (as a military player) and the main partner (as a market for hydrocarbons and an investor).

In the Brazilian view the economic role of the US is particularly acute through the Cuba and Venezuela cases. If the anti‑Iran campaign is for Brazil primarily a "foreign" region, the American intervention in Venezuela and the resulting energy crisis in Cuba are perceived as a direct demonstration of how far Washington is prepared to go in using energy as a tool of political pressure in Latin America. (pt.wikipedia.org) The fact that Latin America's response has not been a consolidated regional policy but piecemeal steps by Mexico and others only heightens concern: if the region does not consolidate, the US will continue to act by a "divide and rule" scheme — through tariffs, sanctions, blocking supplies and new security initiatives.

Interestingly, in the Saudi and broader Arab discourse on the US war with Iran a significant role is played by the media theme and the "hierarchy of suffering." In one Al‑Riyadh column the logic of the global news market is analyzed: why attention to long conflicts like Ukraine falls as soon as a new "hot" episode involving the US and Israel begins, and how commercial media follow what is easier to sell to audiences, creating the impression that older wars have somehow "ended." (alriyadh.com) The author warns: when American strikes on Iran occupy the front pages, it does not mean suffering in other regions has decreased — simply that footage from there has become less commercially profitable. This is a subtle but tangible critique of the Americentricity of the global media space, where Washington sets not only the agenda but also the "degree of humanitarianism."

For Brazil the key storyline is less about how the US shapes the global media picture and more about how the American narrative of "democracy and human rights" is used to interfere in the internal affairs of countries in the region. Discussing the American report on alleged deterioration of human rights in Brazil and the blocking of social networks, Brazilian commentators point out that Washington readily cooperates with authoritarian regimes when that aligns with its energy and military interests, and urge treating such assessments as instruments of political bargaining. (pt.wikipedia.org) In this sense the current war with Iran and American promises to "bring peace by force" only deepen skepticism: if in the Persian Gulf Washington justifies strikes as "protection from a nuclear threat," what would stop it tomorrow from calling "populist governments" a threat in Latin America and acting just as harshly?

The Turkish public traditionally interprets American "democratic" rhetoric through the lens of its own experience — whether pressure around the judiciary and media freedom, or the broader conflict over the roles of Ankara and Washington in Syria and the South Caucasus. Against the backdrop of the current war with Iran, some Turkish commentators see US statements about "protecting world stability" as a continuation of an old tradition: values as language, interests as the real motivation. Parallels with Iraq 2003 — from the decision to move carrier groups to the region to discussions of "changing the behavior" of the Iranian regime — are drawn in Turkish texts almost in plain language. (pt.wikipedia.org) The difference is that today Ankara is much more careful in crafting its own line, trying both to preserve channels with Washington and not to burn bridges with Tehran and Moscow.

The result is a multilayered picture. For Turkey the US is primarily a military and financial power whose actions in the war with Iran and on energy markets can both undermine and support the Turkish economy and Ankara's regional role. For Saudi Arabia and the Gulf, America is the main partner in security and energy, but also a source of permanent risk — every movement of US carrier groups and every phrase from the White House is written into oil prices and Riyadh's budget forecasts. For Brazil the US is both an economic opponent using tariffs and human rights as arguments in trade disputes, and a geopolitical architect that, through the "Shield of the Americas" and sanctions against Cuba and Venezuela, is rewriting the rules of the game in the Western Hemisphere.

A common motif heard in all three countries is fatigue with a world where Washington's decision to start or end a war, to impose a tariff or lift sanctions automatically changes the future of millions far beyond the US. But behind this fatigue there are no illusions: Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Brazil fully understand they cannot simply "switch America off" from their equations. Therefore their publics and elites are learning to speak of the US both as a problem and as a resource — criticizing the war with Iran while valuing every hint of a ceasefire; protesting tariffs while trying to fit into new American projects; warning of a "broader war" while relying on American security guarantees.

That ambivalence is the main conclusion from today's Turkish, Saudi and Brazilian reactions to the US. In their eyes Washington has long ceased to be either "leader of the free world" or "main imperialist"; it has become an inevitable parameter that is simultaneously feared, used, contested and listened to — because its decisions directly determine whether tomorrow will cost more at the pump, be safer on the streets and be more stable in their own capitals.

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The World Between Distrust and Dependence: How Korea, China and Ukraine View the U.S.

In early April 2026, conversations about the United States in Seoul, Beijing and Kyiv are held in different languages and with different emotions, but a common thread runs through them all: the world lives in the shadow of American decisions, trying simultaneously to rely on them and to protect itself from their unpredictability. For South Korea this is above all a question of security and the economy in the context of the U.S. and Israel’s war with Iran and the controversial policies of Donald Trump. For China — a reshuffling of power in global trade and an ideological confrontation with Washington. For Ukraine — an existential dependence on American aid and anxious observation of how American democracy itself is changing the rules of the game.

Several shared themes are forming against this backdrop. The first is growing distrust of the predictability of U.S. foreign policy and searches for a “third way” between the United States and China. The second is the sense that domestic political battles in the U.S. directly affect the security and economy of other countries. The third is an increasing readiness to speak of America not only as a military or economic superpower, but as a troubled, even vulnerable system that can be criticized for double standards and social contradictions.

One of the most illustrative arenas for this conversation has been Northeast Asia. The U.S. and Israel’s war with Iran and the related redeployment of American arms from South Korea to the Middle East have sharpened a long-standing feeling of strategic uncertainty in Seoul for several weeks. The Korean press extensively cited reports that Patriot systems and other equipment from bases in the Republic of Korea would be moved to the Middle East, with local newspapers stressing that such steps had been taken before when Washington spoke of the “strategic flexibility” of its forces. Those redeployments were one context for Emmanuel Macron’s visit to Tokyo and Seoul at the end of March: speaking before Korea’s business elite at the Federation of Korean Industries, the French president joked that “our American friends gave me an unprecedented argument: we are predictable,” directly contrasting Paris’s “predictability” with Trump’s “unpredictability” and calling on Japan and South Korea to pursue greater “strategic autonomy” and a coalition of “independent” countries that do not want to be vassals of either the U.S. or China. He made that point both in meetings with President Yoon Suk Yeol and the Japanese prime minister and in a lecture in Seoul, where students received him almost like a K‑pop star; in the subtext, Korean commentators echoed an increasingly common question: “what will the U.S. do in the event of a crisis on the Korean Peninsula or in the Taiwan Strait?” (lemonde.fr)

Within South Korea itself, these foreign-policy doubts overlay a broader debate about the cost of the alliance with the U.S. Proximity to American bases, protracted negotiations over burden-sharing for defense, the risk that Korean ports and airfields could be drawn into conflicts similar to the current war with Iran — all of this is raised in local columns not only in left‑liberal but also in conservative outlets. Against that background, President Yoon’s call to accelerate preparations to transfer wartime operational control to Seoul — which is now de facto held by American command — is interpreted in the Korean press not merely as a technical step but as an attempt to at least partially eliminate dependence on political fluctuations in Washington. French and Korean commentators agree on one point: the security pact with the U.S. remains the cornerstone of the peninsula’s defense, but trust in Washington’s political will is no longer taken as unconditional. (lemonde.fr)

This ambivalence is especially evident in the economy. On one hand, the American market and U.S. investment remain vital to Seoul. Korean media widely covered a report of a planned major Korean investment package in the U.S. amid a new wave of American tariffs on metals and pharmaceuticals; announcing this move, a senior Trump administration official emphasized that Seoul “is on the front line” of supply chains Washington wants to reconfigure in its favor. As Korean business press noted, this course coincides with a record White House defense budget request and large-scale investment programs by American corporations across Asia, from Japan to Singapore, where the U.S. seeks to cement its techno-economic influence. (etoday.co.kr)

On the other hand, fatigue with the “economic burden” of the alliance is building in Korean public opinion. Studies in recent years show that among reasons for negative attitudes toward the U.S., people increasingly cite the “uneven distribution of costs” and the sense that under the slogan “America First” Washington is ready to shift not only military but also industrial risks onto its allies. Sociologists and political scientists in Seoul note an interesting shift: traditional left-wing anti‑Americanism, rooted in memories of dictatorship and military incidents, is being complemented by right-wing critique, where some conservatives doubt whether the U.S. can genuinely protect Korea from North Korea’s nuclear blackmail while simultaneously fighting several wars in the Middle East. (en.wikipedia.org)

If the Korean debate about the United States revolves around the dilemma “dependence versus autonomy,” in China today’s conversations about the U.S. are built around another axis — “conflict versus pragmatism.” On the one hand, Beijing continues to harshly criticize American trade and sanctions policy. Commenting on a recent U.S. Supreme Court decision that effectively struck down a substantial portion of tariffs imposed by the Trump administration during the trade war, China’s Ministry of Commerce, via state media, reminded readers that “trade disputes are harmful to both sides” and urged Washington to “respect World Trade Organization rules and refrain from unilateral measures,” even if the specific court decision happens to be to China’s benefit. Chinese economists speaking to state agencies emphasized that the very fact that an American president could so easily impose tariffs before highlights the vulnerability of the global economy to the U.S. political cycle. (news.mondiara.com)

At the same time, the ideological dispute with Washington in China is increasingly framed through an internal‑external prism: not only as criticism of American foreign policy but also as a demonstration of the United States’ internal weaknesses. A notable example is the campaign around the notion of “斩杀线” — the “kill line” with regard to American poverty. Chinese media and commentators actively discussed research showing that below a certain income level Americans are effectively deprived of chances to escape poverty; according to Chinese and Hong Kong observers, this is presented as proof of the “cruelty” of American capitalism and the failure of the welfare state. Journalist Yuan Li in The New York Times described how China’s propaganda apparatus uses the theme of American poverty to divert attention from its own economic challenges, but Chinese interlocutors interviewed for Asian media noted that such narratives have sounded familiar in China for decades: America becomes a mirror in which it is convenient to show the “chaos and cruelty” of another model, contrasting it with “orderly” development under Party leadership. (zh.wikipedia.org)

This narrative is reinforced by official statements on specific American actions. The Chinese Foreign Ministry, responding to new U.S. sanctions on third countries such as Venezuela, emphasizes that Washington “abuses unilateral sanctions” and interferes in the internal affairs of other states; at the same time, Chinese experts on Latin America in academic and semi‑state publications speak of a “systemic decline of trust in the U.S.” in the developing world. For domestic audiences this is presented as confirmation that the “American model” and American leadership have entered a phase of historical weakening. (cjrb.cjn.cn)

Ukraine, by contrast, views the U.S. through the eyes of a country for which every wavering line in American policy is a matter of survival. Ukrainian outlets and analysts closely follow two levels of American reality at once: the practical side — volumes of military and financial aid, and Washington’s initiatives for a “peace plan” in the war with Russia — and what is happening to American democratic institutions. A recent U.S. Department of Justice memorandum, according to which the Presidential Records Act from the Watergate era — requiring documents to be preserved after leaving office — was declared unconstitutional, drew anxious interest in Kyiv. Ukrainian commentators stress that the opinion of the Office of Legal Counsel in the White House effectively expands Trump’s freedom to deal with documents that Congress might need for future oversight, calling it “part of a long and escalating attack on transparency and accountability.” One expert interviewed by Ukrainian media said that “the consequences go beyond what we could imagine,” hinting that in a conflict between the White House and Congress over control of foreign policy such a Justice Department stance could deepen an institutional crisis. (mezha.net)

For Ukraine, where the issue of archives, documents and investigations has long been part of the struggle for political accountability, such processes in the U.S. look like a worrying signal. This is directly linked to debate over how resilient American security guarantees remain, including written commitments and informal arrangements. Ukrainian authors in analytical pieces remind readers that Washington has shifted tone and emphasis toward Kyiv before depending on the U.S. domestic political context, and the current discussion around laws and presidential powers only heightens the sense that “rules” in Washington are becoming more flexible and contingent on the political will of a particular leader.

This ties into another strand of Ukrainian thinking about the U.S.: attitudes toward American attempts at mediation in the war. Coverage of the U.S. “peace plan,” partly based on Russian proposals and discussed in parallel in the UAE, emphasized the role of informal channels and advisers who built contacts between Putin’s and Trump’s circles. Ukrainian analysts noted that the structure of the negotiations, where key questions were left to a personal meeting between Zelensky and Trump, reveals the personalization of U.S. foreign policy and the risks that this poses for partners dependent on American decisions. (doxa.team)

Bringing together these three perspectives — Korean, Chinese and Ukrainian — it is easy to spot common motifs, but even more important to see differences in tone. In Seoul the tone is usually pragmatic, sometimes nervous, but not hostile. Korea cannot and does not want to give up the American alliance, but speaks increasingly loudly about the need to “lay a hedge” in the form of its own defense autonomy and diversification of partners, including Europe. In Beijing the conversation is more ideological and strategic: the U.S. is portrayed as both a dangerous and a weakening rival, whose internal instability and social problems are presented as evidence of the superiority of the Chinese model. In Kyiv, America remains the main, and often the only, indispensable ally; criticism and anxiety do not cancel the fundamental expectation that Washington is the one able to hold the line of deterrence against Russia.

In all three cases the U.S. appears as a “big variable,” but nowhere as an unquestioned constant. South Korean experts discuss how to reduce the damage from sudden redeployments of U.S. air‑defense systems and lower the risks of being drawn into other countries’ wars; Chinese commentators debate how to use American legal and political crises to their advantage, strengthening their own narrative about “Western chaos”; Ukrainian analysts try to understand how to fit a national strategy into a space where American legal and political axioms no longer seem immutable.

Observers in different countries draw different conclusions. In France, for example, Macron offers Seoul and Tokyo a European “third way,” playing on fears of “U.S. unpredictability” and “Chinese dominance” and trying to build a coalition of “independent” countries that rely on shared values but do not want to be hostage to either superpower. In South Korea such proposals are met with interest but also skepticism: Europe is far away, and the American umbrella is here and now. In China such European initiatives are seen as a potential wedge between Washington and its Asian allies. In Ukraine the very talk of “third ways” sounds for now like a luxury, not entirely available to a country that pays daily for its right to exist and where the volumes of American weapons deliveries determine whether a sovereign Ukraine will be on the map in a few years.

Nevertheless, an important—if not yet dominant—motif is growing in all three societies: the world is no longer willing to perceive the U.S. as the only center of gravity. Some, like China, see this as an opportunity for their own rise. Some, like France and part of the Korean elite, dream of “mid‑level autonomy,” without breaking with America but also unwilling to be entirely dependent on it. Some, like Ukraine, continue to cling to American support while looking more closely at the cracks inside the American system itself.

For an American audience used to viewing the world through the prism of its own debates, these “distant” perspectives are especially telling today. In them America is no longer a myth, an ideal or an absolute evil, but a complex, contradictory, sometimes dangerous, sometimes indispensable partner around which other countries are forced to build their strategies. And the less predictable American domestic politics becomes, the louder and more varied these voices beyond Washington grow — from Seoul to Beijing and Kyiv.

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The world views Washington through Iran: how India, Ukraine and Germany assess the US war

When the United States together with Israel launched large‑scale strikes against Iran on 28 February 2026, a new "lens" effectively appeared in the global agenda for talking about Washington. Discussions are no longer about the abstract "American leadership" but about a very concrete war: its legality, cost, and consequences for regional and global security. In India the debate is how the war affects oil, markets and international law; in Ukraine — how the Middle Eastern front influences support for Kyiv and new configurations of negotiations with Moscow; in Germany — not only questions of morality and law, but also the future of the transatlantic alliance and European autonomy. These three examples clearly show how the US remains both an indispensable actor and an object of growing distrust.

The first major cluster of reactions in all three countries concerns the legitimacy and legal grounds of the war. In the Indian English‑language mainstream, which closely follows West Asia, the language of international law is heard increasingly often, not just geopolitics. One of India's most famous international law lawyers, Harish Salve, in an interview and column for India Today directly called the US and Israeli strikes on Iran "a violation of the UN Charter" and an example of "the destruction of the norms‑based order," emphasizing that authorizations to use force cannot be replaced by unilateral interpretations of self‑defense and "preventive" concepts. He also reminds readers: sanctions and coercive measures are formally possible through the UN, but the reality of the veto power makes the great powers, above all the US, effectively unaccountable, leaving public opinion as the main form of restraint on American military policy, since formally in the US it is Congress that must sanction a war. Thus, in the Indian lens Washington appears not only as a source of instability but as a test of the viability of the entire postwar system of international law. (indiatoday.in)

In the German discourse the gap between the proclaimed "rules‑based order" and the real logic of US power politics is criticized even more harshly. Federal President of Germany Frank‑Walter Steinmeier, whose post is formally ceremonial but whose word is regarded as a moral guide, described the US war against Iran in an interview, reported by several European media, as "illegal," "politically catastrophic," and essentially "unnecessary" if the real goal was indeed to contain Iran's nuclear program. He directly linked the current escalation to Washington's withdrawal from the nuclear deal, which he himself helped negotiate as foreign minister, and warned that trust in American use of force in the world is already undermined and could collapse completely — "as with Russia" — if the US continues to act unilaterally. This is arguably one of the sharpest public assessments of US policy by a sitting head of state in the European Union. (omni.se)

Within Germany itself, legal and strategic aspects are intertwined. CDU leader Friedrich Merz, traditionally more Atlanticist than the Social Democrats, publicly reproaches Donald Trump not so much for the use of force itself as for the fact that the current actions by the US and Israel are "a large‑scale escalation with an unpredictable outcome," rather than an attempt at diplomatic settlement. Merz acknowledges that Germany supports the actions of the US and Israel in Iran — something he had to state directly to the vice president and to Trump himself — but he insists that allies should not be presented with facts via the media without prior consultation. This forms a specifically German critique of the US: not a rejection of security under the American umbrella, but a demand that Washington take European interests and procedures into account, and not treat the alliance as an "automatic endorsement." (handelsblatt.com)

The Ukrainian perspective on the legality and geopolitics of the war is more pragmatic, but it also clearly contains a fatigue with the US claim to be an "arbiter." Ukrainian analytical outlets covering negotiation initiatives between the US and Iran note that Washington, on the one hand, continues to increase its military presence and reserve the right to strike, and on the other hand — in parallel — conducts back‑channel talks via Oman, Geneva and the currently discussed Islamabad, trying to bargain for control over the Strait of Hormuz and substantial limitations on Iran's nuclear and missile potential. This is perceived as a demonstration of ambiguous tactics: "maximum pressure" simultaneously creates the groundwork for a deal and signals to allies that the US is primarily bargaining for its own interests. (unn.ua)

The second common storyline is cost and priorities: how the Iranian campaign changes attitudes toward America's global role, especially where Washington was already deeply involved — in the war of Russia against Ukraine. In Ukraine the US war with Iran is discussed primarily through the prism of what it does to the "Ukrainian dossier." One key piece of news in March was the postponement of trilateral Ukraine–US–Russia talks, which were supposed to continue meetings in Abu Dhabi and Geneva, precisely because the White House was concentrating on the Iranian front. Volodymyr Zelensky publicly acknowledged that American partners' attention "is now focused on the situation in Iran," but he also stressed that the US still has the opportunity to use this crisis as leverage to increase pressure on Moscow. Ukrainian commentators interpret the pause in two ways: on the one hand, it is a risk — Washington is physically and politically overloaded; on the other hand, the global dependence on the Strait of Hormuz and strikes on infrastructure in the Persian Gulf raise the cost of continuing the Russia–Ukraine war for the West, and thus potentially increase the incentive to seek a security configuration in Europe more favorable to Kyiv. (ru.wikipedia.org)

In Ukrainian economic reviews, the US war in Iran often appears almost as an "indirect ally" of Russia in terms of its impact on oil and gas prices: a protracted, high‑intensity air campaign by the US and Israel, some analysts estimate, quickly depletes stocks of precision missiles and air defenses among the US and its allies and pushes global hydrocarbon prices up, which in turn feeds the Russian military budget. This paradoxical effect — "an American war that benefits the Kremlin" — is actively discussed in the Ukrainian media space and adds skepticism to Washington's rhetoric about "strategic planning" and "coordinated support for Ukraine." (amp.strana.today)

In India the question of the cost of the war becomes a very concrete conversation about oil, currency and growth. New Delhi business publications analyze in detail how the Trump administration's decision to grant India a limited license to buy Iranian oil, while tightening sanctions pressure on other Asian directions, fits into bargaining over US import tariffs on Indian goods and the overall architecture of sanctions against Russia. Indian refineries, according to economic reviews, carefully use temporary OFAC waivers to restore at least part of their former Iranian imports, which have always been a source of relatively cheap and geographically convenient oil for India. In the Indian discourse the US appears not so much as a "security guarantor" as a harsh, sometimes cynical regulator of access to global energy flows: Washington can at any moment "turn off" or "turn on" Iranian oil for India in exchange for concessions in other areas, be it reduced imports of Russian Urals or digital trade and agricultural policy. (ria.ru)

This creates an ambivalent picture. On the one hand, Indian business experts acknowledge that the US remains a key partner without whose coordination a large Asian economy cannot effectively manage energy price shocks and access to Western capital markets. On the other hand, opinion pieces on peace and sanctions express growing irritation that any major American military campaign — from Iraq to the current Iran — automatically becomes a "tax on growth" for developing economies, primarily India, which imports the lion's share of its oil and ends up paying for other countries' geopolitical games. It is no coincidence that some Indian texts about the current war juxtapose two motives: criticism of American strikes as undermining international law and sovereignty, and a parallel calculation of how the crisis can be turned into bargaining leverage with Washington.

The third recurring theme is diplomacy and negotiations: how the US, having started a war, simultaneously tries to position itself as an architect of peace, and how this is perceived in different countries. In the Indian media space the position of Trump and his circle is portrayed, on the one hand, through White House statements that "the US is close to achieving all military objectives in Iran" and is conducting parallel discussions with Tehran; and, on the other hand, through the voice of the Iranians themselves, such as Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, who in an India Today piece emphasizes that Tehran does not consider "exchanging messages via intermediaries" to be talks and rejects the American peace plan as "excessive." For the Indian audience this underscores a reputational problem for the US: a country that once scuppered the nuclear deal is now at war and claims the role of main moderator of its end, but the key opponent publicly refuses to recognize that mediating status. (indiatoday.in)

Ukrainian commentators covering the news chronicle around Geneva, Muscat and a possible Islamabad emphasize precisely the multilayered nature of American diplomacy. On the one hand, the United States appears to Kyiv as the main guarantor of aid in the war with Russia and potentially co‑author of a future European security architecture, as clearly manifested in trilateral talks in Abu Dhabi in January. On the other hand, in parallel channels Washington conducts a delicate bargain with Tehran where the issue of Ukraine practically does not figure, and nuclear limits, the future of Hormuz and the configuration of forces in the region come to the fore. This reinforces longstanding Ukrainian suspicions that the fate of the European war for the US is only one element of a broader geostrategic game in which relations with China, control over energy, and domestic electoral calculations are critically important. (ru.wikipedia.org)

In Germany the diplomatic aspect of the war with Iran is discussed not only in the "Washington–Tehran" plane but also in the context of how the US treats its European partners. Merz's speech at the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung congress, where he recounted a phone call with Trump, became a concentrated expression of this tension. According to Merz, the US president publicly accused the FRG of "insufficient help" in ensuring security in the Strait of Hormuz, hinting that "German leadership" is not fulfilling allied obligations. Merz's private reply to Trump — "if you want our help, ask in advance, not through newspapers" — was widely cited in the German press as a symbolic demand for respect for partners. At the same time, during his visit to Washington Merz was forced to state openly that Germany nevertheless supports the US and Israeli strikes on Iran, which underscores that no matter how public doubts and criticism appear, strategic dependence and institutional obligations within NATO continue to keep Berlin in Washington's orbit. (handelsblatt.com)

The fourth level of reaction is moral and humanitarian, especially acute in India and Germany, where public memory of wars and colonialism gives a particular sensitivity to civilian suffering. Indian media examine in detail the account of an alleged American Tomahawk strike on a girls' school in Minab, Iran, where more than 170 people were killed, the majority of them children. India Today published an investigation in which video material and the type of weapon cast doubt on Trump's claim to The New York Times that, "in his view," the strike had been carried out by Iran itself. For an Indian audience that has experienced its own instances of official distortions and information wars, this story became an example of how the White House's propaganda line can conflict with independent data, and how America's moral authority as a "defender of human rights" erodes. (indiatoday.in)

Against this background Indian columnists and guest commentators such as Mehdi Hasan on India Today speak not only of the "need to investigate war crimes" but of the very nature of this war — "unnecessary and unprovoked." Hasan emphasizes that even after the start of hostilities, according to American polls, only one in four US citizens supported strikes on Iran, meaning the White House went to war against the mood of its own society. In the Indian public field this becomes an additional argument: if even American democracy cannot rein in Washington's adventurous foreign policy, developing countries should be even less likely to rely on the American "moral compass" as a universal guide. (indiatoday.in)

In Germany the moral nerve shows in how media and political elites compare the current war with Iran to the "Iran dossier" of recent decades. Steinmeier, recalling his involvement in crafting the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action on Iran's nuclear program, speaks not only of a legal but of a moral catastrophe: instead of using an still‑functioning diplomatic mechanism, the US left the deal and then, under Trump, moved to direct military intervention. Deutschlandfunk commentators in their daily international press roundup cite British and other European newspapers that say those who warned that a US and Israeli strike on Iran would lead to a war "engulfing the entire Middle East" were "perhaps even too restrained in their forecasts." Germany in this picture acts as the voice of a "sober Western conscience," reminding that even if Iran violates human rights and threatens its neighbors, this does not give the US carte blanche to any form of force. (omni.se)

Finally, there is another important dimension in which all three countries look at the US — the symbolic and media one. Iran's "meme war," analyzed in a column in India Today where the author compares the current social media battle to British cartoons from the First World War designed to sway American public opinion to the side of the Entente, shows that Washington is no longer the monopolist in shaping global narratives. In Indian, Ukrainian and German spaces American, Iranian, Russian and local interpretations of the conflict circulate in parallel. This accelerates the erosion of the familiar image of the US as the sole director of the global information stage: Washington remains a central character, but no longer the only storyteller. (indiatoday.in)

If one attempts to synthesize these diverse reactions, the three countries — India, Ukraine and Germany — show three different but intersecting "segments" of a path along which global attitudes toward the US are shifting from unchallenged leadership to a complex, fragmented dependence. In India the US is still seen as a necessary economic and technological partner, but the war in Iran strengthens the demand for strategic autonomy: Delhi wants the ability to balance between Washington, Tehran, Moscow and Beijing, not to be hostage to other countries' sanctions and wars. For Ukraine the US remains a key pillar in the war against Russia, but the Iranian front highlights how fragile and conditional that support can be if Washington decides to reallocate resources and attention. Germany, as the core of the EU and the oldest US ally, increasingly speaks the language of "partnership, not subordination": acknowledging the necessity of American military power, it simultaneously demands that European interests and norms be taken into account.

The Iran war of 2026 thus became not only another test for the Middle East but a mirror in which the world saw a changed image of the US. For some it is still the old familiar — powerful but necessary ally; for others — a dangerous source of destabilization whose decisions are paid for with other people's lives and economies; for the majority — a complex mixture of power that is both needed and frightening. And it is precisely this polyphonic picture — from legal arguments by Indian lawyers to emotional statements by the German president and the cautious pragmatism of the Ukrainian leadership — that best shows what the global conversation about Washington looks like today: neither applause nor boos, but a hard‑to‑swallow, increasingly candid debate about the limits of American power.

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How the World Views America in the Shadow of the War with Iran

In the first days of April 2026, attitudes toward the United States abroad are once again determined less by Washington’s domestic politics than by the fire in the Middle East. Joint US and Israeli strikes on Iran, which began on February 28 and have already led to attacks on territories including the area around the Bushehr nuclear power plant, have become the main lens through which Russia, Israel and Japan are now discussing America as a power shaping the world order. In each of these countries the US is seen differently: as an irresponsible hegemon, as a vital but dangerous ally, as a distant yet still defining superpower of the security architecture. At the same time, the themes are surprisingly consistent — fear of uncontrolled escalation, fatigue with American “endless military campaigns,” and doubts as to whether Washington is seeking a genuine peace at all.

In the Russian information space, the US‑Israel war with Iran almost instantly provided a frame for talk of the “end of illusions” about American leadership. The strikes on the Bushehr NPP area provoked an especially sharp reaction: Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova called them “an indelible stain on the reputations of the US and Israel” and accused Washington of completely negating its former role in nuclear safety and nonproliferation. As emphasized in a Sputnik piece, Russian diplomacy uses the term “military adventure” and calls on the US and Israel to immediately abandon the operation, portraying it as a threat not only to the region but to the entire system of international security. In this narrative the United States appears not as a guarantor of rules but as the main violator: a country that claims special responsibility under the IAEA yet is bombing infrastructure connected to civilian nuclear energy and thereby, Russian commentators argue, “zeros out” the West’s moral arguments in discussions about nuclear risks. (sputnik.by)

Russian analytical articles go beyond official criticism and place the current campaign against Iran in a broader turning of the world system. Thus, the Uzbek site UzDaily, popular in the Russian segment as a source of post‑Soviet analysis, publishes a piece on the “military aggression of the US and the Zionist regime” as a symptom of the world entering a “dangerous phase of instability.” The authors argue that Washington’s bet on force instead of complex diplomatic deals destroys the remaining trust in the postwar security architecture. They draw a parallel between the slogan “America First” and its metamorphosis into “Israel — first and last,” meaning a policy in which US interests are subordinated to ensuring Israel’s regional dominance, even at the cost of long‑term burdens for American society itself. This view is nearly absent in mainstream Western debates but becomes a dominant explanation in Russian and broader Eurasian commentary: not Trump’s “mistakes,” but a systemic tilt toward a Middle Eastern ally. (uzdaily.uz)

At the same time, another line is noticeable in the Russian media — a cautious borrowing of European criticism of the US. Translations and retellings of French and other European columns, such as a piece in Le Figaro that says if Donald Trump fails in the coming days to secure a ceasefire with Iran “the US faces a catastrophe in the Middle East — and so do we,” are actively circulating on Russian‑language portals. The author compares February’s decision to begin the operation against Iran to Vladimir Putin’s mistake in February 2022 — underestimating the enemy — and warns that Washington, like Moscow once did, could become bogged down in a protracted conflict. Russian commentary readily picks up this European alarm but reinterprets it: the catastrophe, local commentators say, threatens not only the US and EU but the entire “Western model” of crisis management, which is turning from a tool of stabilization into a generator of wars. (eadaily.com)

In Israel, America is discussed in a very different key: not as an external threat but as a source of hope and simultaneously a potential catalyst for the most dangerous escalation. Israeli news and analytical resources are closely tracking the deployment of US forces — increased US presence at the Muwaffaq Salti airbase in Jordan, the arrival of the aircraft carrier Gerald R. Ford in the Mediterranean, and additional missile defense assets. These steps are presented as a clear signal to both Tehran and regional actors that Washington is prepared to move from a show of force to a full military scenario if Iran does not restrain itself. One Israeli outlet, Segodnya, emphasizes that the US and Iran are “closer to a military scenario” and that the buildup of American military presence effectively accompanies the failure of Geneva talks on Iran’s nuclear program. (segodnya.co.il)

Local experts, especially those from national‑conservative and right‑wing circles, view such US involvement as inevitable. American bases and aircraft carriers are described as an “umbrella” without which Israel would be too vulnerable to Iranian missiles and drones. Columns in several Israeli publications quote American allies claiming that “US presence is the only thing deterring Tehran from a full‑scale strike.” But even in these texts a worry creeps in: how truly ready is Washington to go all the way if the confrontation exceeds the bounds of a “managed war”? The experiences in Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria make some Israeli commentators fear that America, once drawn in, could just as suddenly pull out, leaving its partners to face the consequences alone. This is especially evident in discussions of Trump’s domestic constraints: his critics in the US, such as Republican Congressman Thomas Massie, are already accusing the White House of overstepping military authority and betraying the isolationist spirit of “America First.” Israeli observers watch these debates closely, understanding that they directly affect the reliability of the American “umbrella.” (ru.wikipedia.org)

Concurrently, Israel itself becomes a prism through which the region evaluates the US. The Turkish newspaper Yeni Şafak, in its Russian‑language article about human casualties and economic consequences of the fighting, writes of “the US and their ally Israel” striking Iran and its proxies, while retaliatory attacks have already affected infrastructure in the UAE, Bahrain and Israel. In essence, America in the eyes of Middle Eastern authors appears not as a remote power but as a participant in the conflict bearing the same responsibility for destruction as regional players. For the Israeli discussion this is ambivalent: on one hand, US support cements Israel’s status as a key Washington partner; on the other, it makes Israel complicit in all American miscalculations in the region. (yenisafak.com)

Japanese voices sound different, but the key intonation is also skepticism about America’s ability to bring things to peace. In the Japanese discourse on US foreign policy during the current crisis, English‑language critical pieces are actively cited and reinterpreted. On the independent platform ISF, a translated article appears under the telling headline: “America Wants to ‘Talk’ to Iran, But Does Not Desire a ‘Real Peace.’” Japanese translators and commentators stress that Washington uses negotiations more as a tactical pause — time to pull in additional military resources, coordinate with allies and prepare for a “larger military phase” — than as a path to compromise. The text underscores that the US request for a pause is needed “to intensify pressure and demonstrate restraint before the international community,” not to develop a sustainable agreement. This resonates with long‑running Japanese debates about whether the US after Iraq and Libya can play the role of an honest mediator at all, rather than merely an armed arbiter. (isfweb.org)

For a Japanese audience accustomed to seeing the US as a guarantor of its security in Asia, the war in Iran is a prompt to consider how American strategy might look in a potential crisis over Taiwan or in the East China Sea. If even allies and critics in Europe speak of a “catastrophe that threatens everyone” regarding Iran, might a similar scenario — a protracted, poorly calculated conflict — become a model for Asian theaters? Expert publications draw parallels between the current US deployment in the Persian Gulf and the buildup of its navy and air power in the western Pacific: in both cases Washington demonstrates readiness for forceful deterrence, but it’s unclear whether it is prepared for the long‑term political and economic costs. This uncertainty prompts Japanese analysts to call for greater strategic autonomy for Tokyo — without abandoning the alliance with the US, but reducing the degree of one‑sided dependence on American decisions.

Against this background, another line of interpretation arises in Russia: a hybrid critique of the US through the prism of its domestic political discourse. Pieces about statements by American politicians, such as former governor Mike Huckabee musing about a “biblical right of Israel” to almost the entire Middle East, are presented in the Russian press as examples of how religious‑ideological motives permeate part of the Washington establishment. In a Moscow Komsomolets publication, such remarks are placed alongside growing US criticism of unconditional support for Israel from figures like journalist Tucker Carlson, who calls it an “intellectual infection.” For the Russian reader this builds an image of America as internally split: on one pole are religious and ideological “hawks” who view Middle Eastern policy through the prism of biblical geography, on the other are populist critics of the military establishment who accuse the elites of dragging the US into yet another fruitless conflict. (mk.ru)

What is common to Russia, Israel and Japan is the sense that the current American course toward Iran is not merely another local operation but a symptom of a deeper transformation of the US role. Russia sees in it proof of the final collapse of the myth of the US as the “guardian of global rules” and uses this to bolster its own narrative of a multipolar world where Washington is only one of the power centers, prone to norm violations. Israel, by contrast, is forced to bind its security even more tightly to the will of the White House, while simultaneously fearing that American domestic war‑fatigue will lead to a new cycle of “promises and retreats.” Japan reads the war with Iran as a warning: if the US continues to combine tough military pressure with inconsistent diplomacy, allies should prepare in advance for the possibility that in a critical moment America may be either overly aggressive or, conversely, sharply constrained by internal disputes.

It is at this crossroads of fears and expectations that the international image of America is being formed today. Not as an unconditional leader, but as a mighty yet increasingly unpredictable power whose decisions regarding one region immediately reverberate elsewhere. Russia, Israel and Japan, each in very different relationships with Washington, surprisingly converge on one point: whether the US can exit the Iranian conflict without another protracted war will determine not only the balance of power in the Middle East but also the answer to a more fundamental question — whether the United States can once again convince the world that its power serves more than itself.

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How the US Is Seen from South Africa, Saudi Arabia and Turkey

In South Africa, Saudi Arabia and Turkey, discussions about the United States today rarely reduce to abstract “anti-Americanism” or unconditional admiration for the “West.” America in these three countries is, above all, a very concrete set of coercive, economic and diplomatic practices that directly touch on their own vulnerabilities: security and wars, conflicts over Israel and Palestine, trade regimes and sanctions, the struggle for influence with China, the role of Islam and migration.

On the surface it may seem that the agendas differ: in South Africa — Gaza, trade regimes and sanctions; in Saudi Arabia — Iran, energy and the future of American security guarantees; in Turkey — Syria, the Kurdish question and the status of a NATO ally. But stepping back reveals a common thread: all three countries are increasingly viewing the US not as a “natural leader” but as a powerful yet unpredictable actor whose influence should be balanced, used and limited rather than simply accepted.

One of the main nerves is how Washington behaves around Israel and the war in Gaza. For South Africa this is no longer only a moral question but also a legal and political one: it was Pretoria that brought a case against Israel to the International Court of Justice, accusing it of possible genocide in the Gaza Strip. The American line — an almost automatic defense of Israel and sharp criticism of the South African initiative — is perceived as a sign that the US is not prepared for universal application of international law. Secretary of State Antony Blinken publicly called the genocide allegations “baseless,” which in South African discourse is presented as an example of the “politicization” of law by the strongest and another episode in which Washington places itself above common norms when it comes to its main Middle Eastern ally. Against this backdrop South African diplomacy is constructing an image of a country ready to use instruments of global law against a US ally, positioning itself against Washington’s “selective morality.” South African commentary carries a long memory of apartheid and of the American reluctance to impose sanctions on Pretoria in the 20th century: today that historical dossier is being rewritten in favor of present arguments — if the US long turned a blind eye to apartheid, why should its moral stance on Gaza be considered unimpeachable now.

In Saudi Arabia the Palestine and Gaza issue is closely intertwined with the question of what role the kingdom wants the US to play in the future Middle Eastern order. In Al-Riyadh, in a recent analytical piece about the “American war on Iran and Riyadh’s strategy of strategic patience,” the author — a Saudi political scientist specializing in the kingdom’s transformation and the book on Vision 2030 — describes a model in which Saudi Arabia relies on American security guarantees while simultaneously building an increasingly autonomous foreign policy, deepening ties with China and Russia and avoiding entanglement in uncontrolled escalation. He compares the kingdom’s approach to “managed tension,” which is preferable to “adventurism,” since any large war that Washington might draw the region into is perceived as an existential threat to the kingdom’s broad modernization plans. The American line of “deterring” Iran and the traditional pressure on Saudis over human rights in these texts appears as an important but no longer exclusive factor — the key question becomes: how many more years will Washington be willing to pay the price of being the “regional policeman,” and should Saudi Arabia bet everything on that card?

At the same time, harsher interpretations of American intentions circulate in the Arab sphere. In one recently widely reposted column in the Arab blogosphere and Saudi discussions, the author claims that the current American strategy allegedly aims to “push Saudi Arabia toward open rapprochement with Israel,” thereby weakening domestic social consensus and creating the risk of “managed chaos.” In the author’s logic this is part of an old concept of “creative destruction,” where the US attempts to reconfigure the regional architecture so that the center of gravity of Arab policy shifts toward recognizing Israel in exchange for military and technological bonuses. American criticism of the human rights situation and episodes like the Jamal Khashoggi affair in these narratives fit into a scheme of political pressure rather than universal values.

An interesting counterpoint to these suspicions comes from more institutional, near-official Saudi media pieces that, conversely, emphasize the long-term interdependence of the two countries. In one overview article in Al-Riyadh on counterterrorism cooperation, British historian Robert Lacey is quoted as calling the American-Saudi alliance “deeper and firmer than its opponents would like.” Authors of such texts remind readers of the main line: regardless of changes in the White House, the fight against terrorism, energy security and the stability of sea lanes have made the US and the kingdom mutually indispensable pillars of Middle Eastern order. They also stress that modern programs sending Saudi youth to study in the US serve not only educational goals but also as a “human bridge” between societies — an idea that Washington traditionally values, but in Saudi discussions is now complemented by the question: isn’t this bridge becoming a one-way street where American expectations grow faster than the kingdom’s readiness to change at external instruction?

The Turkish debate about the US is much more openly conflictual and emotional, although economic and military interdependence remains a continuous backdrop there as well. A persistent motif in Ankara’s political discourse has become accusing Washington of “playing a double game” and being an “inconsistent ally.” In earlier years, commenting on US support for Syrian Kurdish formations, official Ankara repeatedly said that “the US, under the cover of fighting ISIS, is creating ground for another terrorist formation.” This formula is regularly reproduced to this day in the Turkish press, framed by examples from new stages of cooperation between American forces and Kurdish groups. In officials’ statements and pro-government expert commentary, the US is often presented as an ally “playing on two fronts”: on the one hand a NATO member, on the other a state that, in the Turkish version, undermines Turkey’s territorial integrity through the Kurdish issue.

Ankara–Washington relations are often described in Turkish analytical texts as a drawn-out marriage in which the parties are tired of each other but not yet ready for divorce. The delivery of Russian S-400 air defense systems, Turkey’s removal from the F-35 program, sanctionary pressure and ongoing disputes around the eastern Mediterranean are presented as examples of how the US, according to the Turkish side, uses its position in the alliance to “discipline” Ankara. In response Turkish commentators emphasize the growing independence of the country’s foreign policy: from active engagement in the South Caucasus to closer relations with Moscow and Beijing. At the same time the American factor will long remain key in Turkish economic discussions: questions about access to Western financing, the role of the dollar and sanction risks repeatedly surface when discussing the soft spots of the Turkish economy, for which any decisions by the Fed or the US Treasury can have direct consequences.

In South Africa the economic aspect often appears through the prism of trade relations and sanction regimes. South African analysts closely monitor how Washington uses tariffs and sanctions in Africa, from the DR Congo–Rwanda conflict to its own disputes with Pretoria. Regional analysis notes that the US acts simultaneously as arbiter and participant: it imposes sanctions on Rwandan officials and field commanders from the M23 movement, while South African forces take part in a peacekeeping mission in the DR Congo. For part of the South African elite this illustrates the “switchability” of American policy: today Washington plays the role of a global judge, tomorrow — an economic competitor demanding that South Africa revise internal rules for favorable bilateral deals. The echo of this “stick-and-carrot” policy resonates with old memories of how long the US hesitated to sanction the apartheid regime and with the current South African desire to position itself as the voice of the Global South at the UN.

The China question is an important backdrop in all three countries, but it is interpreted differently. In Arab analysis of the recent Arab summit in Jeddah, Chinese presence is presented as an alternative to the American legacy of “chaos.” One Egyptian political scientist, commenting on the strengthening of China–Arab ties, drew a vivid comparison: “China brings silk, and the US brings chaos; any sensible person will choose silk.” This phrase was actively cited in Middle Eastern materials discussing Syria’s return to the Arab League and Beijing’s role in normalization between Saudi Arabia and Iran. For a Saudi audience this is no longer a marginal thesis: against the backdrop of China’s real role as mediator between Riyadh and Tehran, it becomes a political option — to continue relying on the American “umbrella” while diversifying strategic partners so as not to be hostage to a single power.

In South Africa the China factor in discussions about the US most often appears in connection with the idea of multipolarity and BRICS. South African commentators see American sanctions and military interventions as an argument for strengthening alternative institutions where the Global South can resist Washington’s “unilateral” decisions. In this discourse the US becomes not only a country but a symbol of an old hierarchical architecture that Pretoria hopes can be corrected with the help of Beijing, Delhi, Brasília and Moscow.

In Turkey China is less often discussed as a security-level alternative to the US but increasingly appears as an economic partner and source of investment in infrastructure and technology. In analyses by Turkish institutes on discrimination against Turkish migrants in North America and Europe, the US figures as part of a broader Western system where Muslims and people of Turkish origin face systemic barriers and rising Islamophobic sentiments, while the East (from Qatar to China) is often portrayed as a more flexible and pragmatic partner. This image of the US as a society where the Turkish diaspora must live under “structural suspicion” complements political narratives about America’s “double game” and betrayal of an ally.

Across all three countries another common motif is noticeable — fatigue with American military hyper-presence and, at the same time, recognition that a complete exit from the “American world” is impossible. Saudi authors, analyzing the prospects of a possible new Donald Trump term, on the one hand recall episodes of “maximum pressure” on Iran, the killing of Qassem Soleimani and increased arms sales to the kingdom, and on the other point out that Trump sharply criticized prolonged military engagement in the region and is unlikely to willingly be drawn into a full-scale war with Iran — therefore relying on unconditional American military backing is also risky. Turkish analysts, for their part, look at American “red lines” on Ukraine and Taiwan and wonder how far Washington is prepared to go for Ankara if clashes of interest with Moscow over Syria or the Black Sea region flare up again.

The South African experience of interacting with the US in Africa — through sanctions, trade and human rights issues — adds another facet to this skepticism. On the one hand, the US remains an important investor and partner; on the other, South African experts increasingly say relations with Washington should be built not as with a “teacher of democracy” but as with one of many global players whose interests do not always align with international law or the needs of the Global South.

Summed up, the image of the US in South Africa, Saudi Arabia and Turkey today is that of a still-necessary but no longer unconditional partner. It is a country whose military and financial might remain key, but whose moral claims and right to define the “correct” order are increasingly questioned. For South Africans this debate passes through The Hague and memory of apartheid; for Saudis — through the balance between the American umbrella, relations with Israel and China’s “silk”; for Turks — through the experience of the Syrian war, the dispute over the Kurds and the daily reality of Turkish migrants in North America.

The common denominator is simple and worrying for Washington: the less the world believes in the exclusivity of the American moral voice, the more the US becomes “one of the powers” among others — mighty, but not unique. That is precisely how they are increasingly seen today in Pretoria, Riyadh and Ankara.

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How the World Sees America in the Shadow of the War with Iran and the Return of Trump

In early April 2026, foreign media discussion of the United States revolves around three major storylines that intertwine politics, economics and even sport. There is the new war of the US and Israel with Iran and the threat of escalation across the Middle East; the return of Donald Trump and his domestic agenda, perceived abroad as a global risk; and a softer but telling theme — perceptions of American society, its well‑being and values seen through happiness rankings and international sporting events. Russia, Saudi Arabia and South Korea look at the same events from different angles, but similar motifs often emerge in their assessments: fatigue with America’s “global mission,” fear of Washington’s unpredictability, and pragmatic calculations about how to use the current crisis to their advantage.

The central nerve of all discussions is the US and Israel war with Iran, which began on 28 February 2026 with Operation “Epic Fury” and the killing of Iran’s supreme leader Ali Khamenei. (ru.wikipedia.org) For Russian commentators this is a long‑awaited confirmation of their long‑held thesis that Washington inevitably resorts to forceful solutions. In analytical pieces in major Russian outlets the war is described as a logical continuation of the “history of American interventions,” and the strike on Iran is portrayed as an attempt to regain control of the energy market and to preserve the petrodollar as central banks increasingly shift into gold, the euro and the yuan. (gold.1prime.ru) At the same time, Moscow revives the old theme of “double standards”: Tehran’s suppression of protests is condemned almost everywhere, but Russian experts emphasize that the US is using this only as a convenient pretext while ignoring similar practices by its regional allies.

Saudi media view the same conflict much more pragmatically. The main question in local economic and political columns is not moral judgment of Washington but the price per barrel and logistics resilience. Business pieces analyze oil and gold price spikes in response to news of US–Iran talks and the risk of direct strikes on Iranian infrastructure: bank and trading house analysts explain to readers how a “geopolitical premium” of a few dollars per barrel is linked to the likelihood of an American attack and Iran’s possible retaliatory strikes on Persian Gulf infrastructure. (alriyadh.com) On the one hand, higher oil prices are temporarily beneficial to the kingdom’s budget; on the other, any serious disruption of shipments through Hormuz threatens global market destabilization and pushes consumers toward diversification — so Saudi commentary expresses cautious criticism of escalation from all sides, but without direct confrontation with Washington.

South Korean analysts view the US–Iran war primarily as a factor in global macroeconomics and defense markets. In recent briefs from Korean investment houses the conflict is described as a “localized war / war of attrition” after Khamenei’s death, which increases oil price volatility, affects the Fed’s rate decisions and, at the same time, boosts demand for air defense systems and precision weaponry. (file.alphasquare.co.kr) One market report on commodities and defense assets states outright: Operation “Epic Fury” and the subsequent IRGC strikes on US bases in Qatar, Kuwait, the UAE and Bahrain create a “window of opportunity” for Korean manufacturers of air‑defense missiles, as regional supplies of interceptors are rapidly depleting. (samsungpop.com)

At the same time, Korean commentators do not share illusions about the manageability of the conflict. Parallels with 2022 and the war in Ukraine appear in the context of inflation: authors remind readers that even before the current war with Iran the American economy was living with post‑COVID inflation, and now an oil shock again ties US military adventurism to the wallet of the Korean consumer. (file.alphasquare.co.kr) Here American policy appears not as a distant story “about democracy in the Middle East,” but as a direct driver of gasoline prices, loan rates and volatility on the Seoul exchange.

The second major thread is Donald Trump’s return and his domestic initiatives, which outside the US are perceived not as a purely domestic matter but as a radical change of the rules. In the Arab press, including in Gulf states, economic commentators continue to dissect his tax plan, which threatens to inflate the budget deficit, raise borrowing costs and thereby alter global capital flows. In a Kuwaiti outlet this bill is described as a “threat to the American economy,” not only due to rising debt but also because of the risk of new currency and debt crises that traditionally “spill over” into emerging markets. (aljarida.com)

In Saudi public discourse Trump more often appears in the light of his controversial immigration and citizenship initiatives. Reports from the US in the local press note Supreme Court hearings on the possibility of ending birthright citizenship by presidential decree. Journalists carefully explain American constitutional logic to readers — the Fourteenth Amendment, the “citizenship clause” — and emphasize that lower courts have already found Trump’s initiative unconstitutional. (alriyadh.com) But the underlying question for Saudi audiences is different: if such a fundamental norm can be politically re‑examined in the US, how secure are the guarantees for foreign students, investors and workers on which the kingdom relies in its own transformation strategy?

Russian commentators perceive Trump’s return more cynically and instrumentally. In analysis and columns he is often presented as a “symptom of crisis in American democracy” and simultaneously as a figure whose unpredictability could weaken Western coordination on sanctions and military matters. Reviews of the political situation in the US stress that Trump’s projects, from tax reform to a hardline immigration agenda, divide American society and create an opening for other centers of power, including Russia and China. Paradoxically, Moscow commentators sometimes speak of Trump with a certain sympathy, stressing that his criticism of the “deep state” and international alliances reflects the fatigue of part of American society with the country’s globalist role — which aligns his rhetoric with the traditional Russian narrative of “sovereignty” and “multipolarity.”

South Korea views Trump through a security prism. Articles on nuclear deterrence and strategic stability raise the question: how reliable is the US “nuclear umbrella” if Washington is again led by a leader who openly questions the value of alliances and is willing to negotiate the terms of military presence? International reviews remind readers that discussions about Seoul acquiring its own nuclear weapons, as with Germany or Poland, are largely fueled by doubts that the US would truly risk its own cities for an ally in a critical moment. (afsa.org) For the Korean public this is not an abstract theory: it immediately raises the question of whether Trump, absorbed by confrontation with Iran and domestic battles, will keep sufficient attention on North Korea and East Asia.

The third, seemingly less dramatic but revealing thread concerns how American society and soft power are judged abroad — from happiness rankings to the World Cup. In Saudi Arabia the new World Happiness Report has been widely discussed in recent days: the kingdom rose to 22nd place, overtaking the United States, which ranked 23rd. (alriyadh.com) For Saudi writers this is not mere statistics; commentary draws a direct line: not long ago America personified the “American dream” and the highest standard of well‑being, but now a reforming kingdom demonstrates a higher level of subjective life satisfaction than many traditional Western powers. This is a subtle form of symbolic revanche: while still acknowledging America’s technological and cultural influence, Saudi media increasingly claim that the West no longer monopolizes the model of a “successful society.”

Interestingly, the same motif appears in the sporting context. The 2026 FIFA World Cup, to be hosted in part by the US, is discussed in the Arab press not only as a sporting celebration but as a potential source of political friction. One Saudi piece quotes FIFA president Gianni Infantino saying that Iran, despite the war, will participate in the tournament and will play its matches where the draw assigns — including on American stadiums, although Tehran tried to move its games to Mexico and Donald Trump said Iranian players “would not be safe” in the US. (alriyadh.com) For a Middle Eastern audience this is a vivid example of how US geopolitical conflicts spill into the football arena, and simultaneously a test of whether an international organization like FIFA can withstand pressure from superpowers.

In Russia, sports and “ranking” themes around the US emerge less often and more often in an ironic tone, but the common subtext is similar: America no longer looks like an unquestioned benchmark. Some pieces link this to internal polarization and social problems, others to foreign policy adventures that are exhausting the country. Against this backdrop Russian commentators emphasize that many developing economies — from Saudi Arabia to China — no longer feel like “second‑class” compared to the US in their assessments of well‑being and economic resilience, especially amid dollar devaluation in reserves and central banks’ turn to gold and alternative currencies. (gold.1prime.ru)

South Korean media in their daily agendas focus much less on the “American dream” as such, but American society constantly appears in the background through discussions about the labor market, Fed rates, technological competition and regulation of big platforms. When discussing, for example, the US crackdown on Chinese tech companies and laws to force the sale or ban of TikTok, Saudi and Korean authors see not only a US national security issue but a symptom of a broader crisis of the liberal digital order that Americans themselves built. In one Saudi article the lawsuit by TikTok and ByteDance against an “unconstitutional” law banning the platform is presented as a historical precedent: for the first time the US Congress is imposing an indefinite ban on a specific platform of expression, restricting Americans’ access to the global online community. (alriyadh.com) For writers in countries where freedom of speech has traditionally been more constrained, the paradox is striking: America, which for decades criticized censorship abroad, now resorts to tools strikingly similar to those it once condemned.

At the intersection of all these threads a general feeling emerges: in Russia, Saudi Arabia and South Korea the United States is no longer perceived as a predictable “anchor” of the world system. For Russian commentators this is an occasion to speak about the collapse of the old unipolar order and an opportunity for Moscow to exploit Washington’s contradictions with Iran, China and its own allies. For Saudi commentators it is a signal to be maximally pragmatic: relying on American security guarantees, the kingdom is simultaneously working to diversify its economy, reserves and foreign ties so as not to be dependent on moods in the White House. For South Korean analysts America remains an indispensable ally, but increasingly a source of turbulence that requires preparation by strengthening domestic defense, technological capabilities and financial resilience.

These reactions show little naive anti‑Americanism and much cold calculation. Russia uses any Washington misstep to reinforce its narrative of “Western hypocrisy”; Saudi Arabia counts dollars, barrels and happiness rankings; South Korea measures everything through the prism of risks to exports, energy prices and reliability of the nuclear umbrella. But all three share one thing: in 2026 America is less an abstract symbol of freedom or imperialism than a large, noisy and increasingly unmanageable factor whose influence must be accounted for in daily politics, economics and even in determining where and against whom Iran’s national team will play at the World Cup.

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How the World Sees America in Spring 2026: The Iran War, "America First" and Fear of...

Spring 2026 became a moment when the United States was once again at the center of global attention — but not as a universal arbiter, rather as the main source of turbulence. Views of Washington from Moscow, Ankara and Canberra differ sharply, but the themes are almost the same everywhere: the US and Israel’s war with Iran, Donald Trump’s second term and his sharp turn to isolationism, withdrawal from dozens of international organizations, and the question of whether anyone else can hold the world order together if America itself is pulling out supports from the architecture it built for decades.

It is telling that Russia, Turkey and Australia discuss the same American decisions, but each frames them through its own fears and interests. For Moscow this is another turn of Washington’s “unpredictable aggression,” which simultaneously gives Russia freer hands and creates the risk of a major war. For Ankara it is a dangerous US game in a region where Turkey lives and trades, and where every misstep by Washington can hit Turkish security and the economy. For Australia it is an existential question: how to remain a loyal US ally without becoming complicit in what a significant part of society and experts explicitly call “illegal aggression.”

The central nerve of all these discussions is, of course, the US and Israel war with Iran, which began on 28 February 2026 with massive strikes on Iranian territory and has continued for several weeks, and the parallel decision by Trump to withdraw the United States from 66 international organizations, including UN structures on which the postwar system of multilateral diplomacy had relied.(ru.wikipedia.org)

It is around these two storylines — the Iranian campaign and the dismantling of the multilateral order — that today’s global discussion of America is built.

The first layer is, of course, the war in Iran itself. In Russian media and expert circles the US and Israeli strikes on Iranian infrastructure and nuclear facilities are described as the breaking of all “red lines” and the final collapse of the restraint regime that had existed since the Cuban Missile Crisis. On Russian-language analytical portals and in newspapers, from Izvestia to specialized blogs, the scale of the operation is emphasized: thousands of sorties, tens of thousands of rounds of munitions, destroyed depots, air-defense positions, ships in the Persian Gulf.(cdn.iz.ru) But the tone is far from celebratory. On the contrary, the prevailing mood is skepticism about American objectives and a tacit confidence that Washington has once again become embroiled in a conflict without a clear “endgame.”

Notable here are the voices of military experts whom Russian newspapers readily cite. One former naval officer, commenting on a possible US amphibious operation against the Iranian island of Khark, bluntly says that any large landing in the Persian Gulf would lead to “heavy losses” for the Americans and a collapse of logistics, since the Gulf is the artery through which up to 90 percent of Iranian oil exports flow.(cdn.iz.ru) Woven into such criticism is a traditional Russian motif: America “knows how to start wars but not how to finish them,” and each new crisis ultimately weakens its position and strengthens those Moscow considers US opponents.

At the same time Russian analysts closely watch the domestic-political context: Trump’s falling ratings amid a protracted campaign, concern within the Republican electorate about the prospect of “yet another endless Middle Eastern war,” and American voters’ reluctance to see a large-scale ground operation.(au.news.yahoo.com) In one business-focused review it is stated plainly: in conditions of war with Iran and high oil prices the Federal Reserve will have to tighten policy, which means a global rise in rates and pressure on commodity-exporting economies, including Russia’s.(finance.rambler.ru) Thus the image of an “aggressive America” paradoxically combines in Russian discourse with an image of “America undermining its own hegemony.”

The Turkish picture is much more nervous and contradictory. Turkey is geographically close to the theater of operations, historically integrated into Western security structures, and at the same time traditionally suspicious of any unilateral US use of force in the region. In Turkish media coverage and analysis the US–Israel war with Iran is presented as “one of the most dangerous escalations in the Middle East” since Iraq and Syria.(ekonomist.com.tr) The discussion constantly circles around the risk of strikes on energy infrastructure in the Persian Gulf, the fact that Iran is already launching missile-drone attacks on US and allied targets in Saudi Arabia and the UAE, and that the Strait of Hormuz is not an abstraction but a key artery for the global — and therefore Turkish — economy.(reddit.com)

In this context comments from Turkish politicians are especially noteworthy. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan in one speech said plainly that “attacks on Iran poison the whole region” and increase the risk of dragging Turkey into a conflict it does not want.(turkiyegazetesi.com.tr) The Turkish Foreign Ministry, for its part, emphasizes that Ankara does not accept a policy in which the territory of neighboring states becomes a platform for American and Israeli operations against Tehran — here persistent criticism is voiced of the use of Iraqi and Syrian airspace for strikes.(turkgun.com)

And yet the Turkish conversation about America is not reduced to anti-American rhetoric. In mainstream outlets another motif regularly appears: the US remains a key player without whom no crisis, including the Iranian one, can be resolved. In an analytical column in the newspaper Star, for example, the US–Iran crisis is described as part of a “global chess game,” in which Washington is simultaneously sending a signal to Beijing, working out a scenario of pressure on the nuclear programs of “problematic” regimes and testing the limits of allies’ tolerance.(star.com.tr) Authors of such pieces stress the point: Turkey should coolly use great-power competition to its advantage, not merely condemn America emotionally.

Finally, the Australian view of the Iran war and the US is perhaps the most split. On the one hand, official Canberra conspicuously stands alongside Washington. Foreign Minister Penny Wong publicly stated that Australia “supports US strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities,” while leaving the legal justification for the strikes to the consciences of Washington and Jerusalem — “let the United States and Israel speak of the legal basis.”(theguardian.com) The government at the same time calls for “restraint” and a “return to diplomacy,” fully aware that any further escalation will hit energy and construction-materials prices and thus the Australian economy.(unn.ua)

On the other hand, very harsh criticism is audible in the Australian public sphere. The Guardian Australia columnist Paul Daley writes that the “illegal US–Israeli air war against Iran” carries a virus of danger to the world, and Australia risks being drawn into “a hyper-macho Trump adventure with no clear endgame.”(theguardian.com) Around this a whole layer of discussion is built: international-law experts warn that Canberra’s support for US actions undermines Australia’s claim to be a supporter of international law; human-rights advocates point to reports of strikes on civilian targets in Iran, including girls’ schools; and anti-war marches from Melbourne to Sydney call the United States an “aggressor” and Trump the “instigator of catastrophe.”(reddit.com)

Notably, part of the Australian public debate is addressed not so much to Washington as to Australia’s own elite. In an ABC review of complaints about an allegedly “anti-American” bias on a channel, the corporation’s ombudsman, conversely, recognizes as legitimate a journalist’s question: how can Trump justify new strikes on Iran if not long ago he declared Iran’s nuclear program “destroyed,” while intermediaries reported progress in talks?(abc.net.au) This is not merely a technical dispute about balance on air — it is a question of trust in the motives of the American leader, which for many Australians determines whether to follow the US unconditionally.

If the war in Iran is an immediate crisis, Trump’s decision to withdraw the US from 66 international organizations has become for many observers a symbol of a long-term shift. Around the world this event is interpreted differently, but almost nowhere is it seen as trivial.

In Russian discourse the US withdrawal from dozens of institutions, including UN structures, formally looks like a Moscow triumph: the “globalist architecture” long criticized in Russia as an instrument of Western influence is now under attack. Russian-language analytical texts on the topic emphasize that Washington is “dismantling the system it built,” refusing to fund organizations where it has lost control, thereby freeing space for other centers of power — primarily China and, to a lesser extent, Russia.(smart-lab.ru)

But behind the sarcasm and schadenfreude there is also concern: if the US fully exits the multilateral rules regime, the familiar “rails” along which Moscow has built its foreign policy for decades disappear — from arms-control treaties to forums where Russia could block unwanted decisions relying on procedures and veto rights. An academic-format article devoted to the US exit from 66 bodies warns plainly: for Central Asia this means weakening mechanisms of collective security and counterterrorism, and for the world overall — increased chaos.(new.kgu.tj) In that logic America turns from “architect of order” into “chief demolisher,” to whom people nonetheless must still turn because there is no alternative.

In Turkey the same Trump move is fitted into a broader narrative about the “end of Western hegemony” and the growth of space for regional powers, including Turkey itself. Turkish think tanks and newspapers stress that the US exit from key forums weakens the collective West and gives Ankara more room for flexible maneuvering between Washington, Moscow and Beijing. Still, the caveat often heard is that institutional breakdown does not automatically strengthen Turkey; it also risks crises — from the Iranian to the East Mediterranean — being resolved not through negotiation but by force.(edam.org.tr)

Australia’s take on “America First 2.0” is largely different. In English-language pieces read and cited in Canberra and Sydney the US withdrawal from 66 organizations is described as a blow to multilateralism and an undermining of Washington’s role as guarantor of the global order. One Australian analysis summarized the point: “The US no longer plays first among equals — it is dramatically leaving clubs where rules are written by more than just them.”(amp.rnz.co.nz)

For Australia, whose security strategy traditionally combines reliance on the US alliance with active work through the UN, WTO and other institutions, this is a serious challenge. International-lawyers warn: if Washington itself undermines the legitimacy of structures it once appealed to in justifying actions from Iraq to Afghanistan, it will be much harder to convince partners that new campaigns — like the current war with Iran — are not just exercises of raw power lacking international sanction.(reddit.com)

At the intersection of the war with Iran and the US “exit” from international organizations another common theme emerges in Russian, Turkish and Australian debates — the question of where the fight against a threat ends and outright “regime change” and forcible redrawing of the map begins.

In Turkey this question is asked especially loudly. Journalists and commentators, recalling past US campaigns — from Iraq to Libya — note that Trump’s rhetoric about “demilitarizing” Iran and eliminating its nuclear potential goes hand in hand with calls for “capitulation” and talk that after the war Washington will “name who should govern Iran.”(abcgazetesi.com.tr) In Turkish opposition outlets this is explicitly called “regime-change under the carpet,” while pro-government sources, though more cautious, warn that a scenario of Iran’s disintegration could lead to an uncontrolled wave of refugees, new terrorist hotspots and ultimately a blow to Turkey.

In Russia the theme of “regime change” is tied to a broader narrative that the US continues a line of “democratization à la Trump” across the perimeter, from Venezuela to Iran, using forceful actions to distract from domestic problems and investigations surrounding the American president himself.(ru.wikipedia.org) In this context Russian texts increasingly include a motif that five years ago seemed marginal: America as an “unstable authoritarian state,” where under the pretext of external threats preparations are made to introduce “dictatorship at least in one state” and provocations on its own territory are not excluded.(t.me)

Australian voices add another dimension: a persistent fear that supporting US wars that lack a clear international-law mandate drags Australia along. In Australian discussions lawyers say plainly: “supporting illegal aggression against Iran is the worst thing Australia could do,” because it destroys the basic principle that small and middle powers should rely on rules, not on raw force.(reddit.com)

The common denominator of all these debates is this: even those countries and societies that are critical of American unilateralism still measure world security through the prism of the United States. In Russia they expect that Trump, venting steam in Iran and loudly slamming doors on international organizations, will ultimately weaken the American alliance system and give Moscow room to maneuver — and yet they watch with anxiety to see whether the US departure from institutional frameworks has removed the last brakes. In Turkey they balance condemnation of American “military adventurism” with the recognition that without the US the region would be left alone against Iran’s nuclear and missile program and China’s expanding influence. In Australia there is a painful debate about how to live in a world where the main ally remains an indispensable guarantor of security while increasingly acting in ways that undermine the very foundations of the international order.

In this sense today’s international discussion about America is not reducible to simple anti-Americanism. Russian commentators, Turkish strategists and Australian lawyers are talking about the same thing: a crisis of confidence in the United States as a country that once at least professed commitment to common rules and now increasingly speaks the language of “America First” and “we’ve done our job, now handle it yourselves.”(instaforex.eu)

The paradox is that those countries which rhetorically welcome the weakening of American hegemony are in practice most dependent on whether Washington can find a way to embed its interests in some new — even if tougher and more fragmented — system of rules. For now, judging by published columns, statements and editorials, from Moscow, Ankara and Canberra the United States is seen as a power whose decisions simultaneously set the world’s rhythm and make that rhythm ever more nervous and unpredictable.

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The World Through the Prism of "America First": How South Africa, East Asia and India React

Around the United States today there is again a nervous, but not uniformly hostile, atmosphere. Donald Trump’s return to the White House, a “second version” of his protectionism and a tough unilateral approach to the world, the blow to multilateral institutions, a new configuration of sanctions and tariffs, and the escalation in the Middle East — all of this pushes countries simultaneously to fear Washington and to seek advantageous deals with it. In public debates in South Africa, South Korea and India, the United States is almost always present, but as a “problematic, necessary partner”: from trade wars and potential sanctions to security, migration and energy dilemmas.

If in the South African press America appears primarily as a source of political and economic pressure, in Seoul the discussion is about how to reconcile reliance on the U.S. alliance with the need for technological sovereignty, while in the Indian debate irritation over tariffs and deportations paradoxically coexists with talk of “unprecedented opportunities” for IT and defense cooperation. At the intersection of these three regional perspectives a new picture emerges: a world in which the U.S. is no longer regarded as a moral leader, but it is still assumed that neither security nor the global economy can be built without America.

One of the key nodes of these debates is the personality of Trump and his “America First” doctrine, now logically extended into a second term. In India this is written about as a “recalibration of the strategic compass” in relations with Washington, where U.S. economic nationalism combines with a desire to use India as a counterweight to China. In Korea the Trump topic is more often integrated into a broader conversation about deglobalization and new tariffs, whereas in South Africa the current administration in Washington has become the trigger for an open diplomatic conflict.

One of the sharpest themes shared by discussions in Pretoria and New Delhi remains the U.S. use of economic levers — from tariffs to threats to revise aid — to impose its agenda. South African analysts directly speak of an “extraterritorial political risk” associated with American sanctions and trade restrictions, which can change countries’ domestic policies despite being formally economic instruments. A report from the Centre for Risk Analysis in Johannesburg emphasizes that U.S. influence on South African politics and business in 2026 and beyond is increasingly exerted through sanctions, trade restrictions and bilateral reviews of agreements, rather than through classic diplomatic mechanisms — and that this is becoming one of the country’s key political risks. South African business media discuss that the “extraterritorial reach of the U.S.” could lead to real trade losses if Pretoria continues a course of closeness with Iran, Venezuela or Russia, disregarding Washington’s sensitivity to those ties. (cra-sa.com)

The Indian discussion shows similar worries, but from a different starting point — that of a large economy deeply integrated into American markets. The term “secondary tariffs,” which emerged during Trump’s second administration, has become almost proverbial in Indian economic analysis. These “secondary tariffs,” introduced as a pressure tool not only against direct U.S. opponents but also against third countries, affected India in August 2025: Indian exports were hit with an additional 25 percent duty as punishment for purchases of Russian oil. Formally the tariff was lifted only in February 2026 after some Indian oil companies agreed to significantly reduce purchases from Moscow or to limit them to previously concluded contracts. (en.wikipedia.org)

For Indian analysts this was a lesson: Washington is ready at any moment to transform economic interdependence into an instrument of political pressure. A report from the Takshashila Institute explicitly speaks of the “aggressive tariff measures of the Trump administration” and the need for New Delhi to pursue “stepwise liberalization” and to negotiate a comprehensive trade agreement with the U.S. to minimize vulnerability to such unilateral protectionism. (takshashila.org.in)

In South Africa the discontent is more politicized and rooted in the traditions of the African National Congress. Public statements by South African politicians and columnists alternate with warnings that an “anti-American” line could be costly for the economy. Political scientist William Gumede, in a column for Business Day, argues that the ruling party’s confrontational course with the U.S. — from the Venezuela affair to friendships with Iran — is based on “outdated Cold War approaches” and underestimates how structurally the global economy has changed. He warns that prioritizing ideological solidarity with “anti-Western” regimes could lead to sanctions, loss of trade preferences and capital flight, especially as the Trump-2 administration demonstrates willingness to sharply cut aid and trade concessions. (businessday.co.za)

At the same time, right‑conservative circles in the U.S. try to present themselves as defenders of the “victims” of South African policy, which further poisons the bilateral atmosphere. The winding down of U.S. aid to South Africa and the launch of a Special Program to accept white South African refugees, anchored by Trump’s decree to halt all foreign assistance to South Africa on the pretext of “racial discrimination” in favor of the black majority, create in the local press an image of the White House drawing on an extreme-right narrative about a “white farmer genocide.” South African journalists point out that farm murder statistics depict a much more complex picture than the U.S. administration presents and interpret this policy as interference in the country’s internal affairs. (en.wikipedia.org)

In India, however, the economic conflict with Washington coexists with rhetoric about “historic opportunities” for strategic and technological partnership. In a column by the director of the Institute for Defence Studies in New Delhi for The Indian Express, it is stressed that since 2016 — when India obtained the status of “major defense partner of the U.S.” and access to the Strategic Trade Authorization‑1 regime — Indian companies became part of American aerospace supply chains, and Trump’s return to power could “remove many restrictions” on high‑technology supplies to India amid the U.S.–China rivalry. The author argues that it is precisely the geopolitical conflict with Beijing that could push Washington to offer more generous terms in AI, space technologies and civil aviation, where India is seen as an ideal recipient and co‑developer. (indianexpress.com)

Nevertheless, Indian media discourse also notes the downside of “traditionally warm” ties. Indian commentators recall that the Trump administration clearly demonstrated readiness to turn migration into a weapon: from deportations of illegal Indian migrants using military aircraft in the early months of the second term to periodic threats to cut H‑1B issuance. On a popular Indian forum they discuss how radical U.S. migration policy measures have turned the situation of labor migrants into a domestic political issue in India itself. One participant in the debate called what happened “a hard lesson for those who believed that a personal friendship between Trump and Modi guarantees protection for the diaspora.” (reddit.com)

Against this backdrop, official statements by U.S. representatives in New Delhi now sound maximally pragmatic. In a recent speech by Deputy Secretary for Defense Policy Elbridge Colby, an advocate of a hard line toward China, he emphasized that India–U.S. relations are “driven not by dusty formalities, but by clear‑eyed interests.” He praises India for a “foreign policy based on national interest,” which, in his view, aligns well with the Trump administration’s approach. Colby explicitly says: when the U.S. acts for the security and prosperity of Americans, and India for Indians, these efforts “often and substantially reinforce one another.” Thus Washington normalizes the idea that partnership is built on deals rather than values. (theprint.in)

South Africans view the same processes through a different window — as another turn in the crisis of the “rules‑based” global order. U.S. influence here is associated less with opportunities and more with attempts to punish the country for its sovereign foreign policy. The latest diplomatic flare‑up was sparked by criticism from the new American ambassador, Leo Brent Bozell III, a conservative activist and Trump ally, over Pretoria’s ties with Iran and its internal policy of affirmative action in favor of the black majority. After his remarks to the business elite, where he questioned both the foreign and domestic line of the South African government, the South African foreign ministry urgently summoned him, and the ruling party publicly stated that no ambassador has the right to dictate the country’s foreign policy. “We need to make it clear to everyone we welcome in our beautiful country, including the new U.S. ambassador, that South Africa’s foreign policy will be determined only by South Africans and their government,” reads a statement published by the Johannesburg‑based The Guardian Nigeria and widely quoted in local media. (apnews.com)

Simultaneously, South African publications debate how consistent and “uninvolved” Pretoria’s foreign policy really is. Several authors remind readers that if a country calls itself non‑aligned, its positions on key conflicts — from Ukraine to Venezuela and Iran — should be based on uniform application of international law norms, not situational solidarity with those Washington labels enemies. In a statement the FW de Klerk Foundation emphasizes that South Africa “is not obliged to accept the U.S. foreign policy framework,” but must understand that certain foreign policy choices automatically trigger trade consequences, investor concern and long‑term reputational costs, especially when confronting its largest trading partner. (fwdeklerk.org)

The central background uniting South African, Korean and Indian discussions about the U.S. is the war in the Middle East and the shared sense that Washington is losing the status of a “responsible leader.” For Pretoria this is primarily a question of energy and international law. A rise in oil prices above $100 per barrel after escalation in the Strait of Hormuz is perceived as another “external shock” to which African economies are more vulnerable than developed ones. In a piece in French Le Monde on the war’s impact on Africa, South African analyst Ronak Gopaldas recalls that he modeled a U.S.–Iran crisis scenario a few years ago that would drastically worsen security and economies across the continent, from Somalia to the Sahel. Now, in his assessment, that moment has arrived, and the South African finance minister openly admits: the country is a “price taker” on the global oil market and can only watch as decisions by Washington and Tehran reshape its economic balance. (lemonde.fr)

In India the same war is discussed in another key: as the “first truly AI‑native conflict,” where American and Iranian propaganda, as well as third parties, fight for perceptions, including in India’s information space. Analysts at ThePrint note that after the Franco‑American‑Israeli strike on Iran on 28 February 2026, Indian social networks were flooded with fabricated videos and memes, often localized in language and style, attempting to push pro‑Iranian and anti‑American narratives under an “Indian” veneer. Notably, Indian experts link this flow not only to Iranian and pro‑Russian sources, but also to private and state structures in other countries that view India as a key battleground for global public opinion. The government in New Delhi, for its part, emphasizes that it is creating special mechanisms to track content that could harm “India’s bilateral relations with any partner,” including the U.S. (theprint.in)

South Korean discussions about the U.S. may seem less dramatic at first glance, but they address the same issues — trust in American leadership and the cost of dependence on it. Korean think tanks analyze in detail what the combination of a second Trump administration and the accelerating restructuring of the global economy means for Seoul. An Asan Institute brief notes that Trump’s return almost certainly means renewed pressure on Seoul regarding the “costs of the alliance”: a cost‑sharing agreement reached under Biden for stationing U.S. forces in Korea for 2026 may be reviewed with demands for a “radical increase” in Seoul’s share. The authors suggest that Korea approach this bargaining pragmatically — accept some demands in exchange for key technologies: revising nuclear agreements to expand Seoul’s fuel reprocessing and enrichment rights, joint weapons production, even discussion of returning tactical nuclear weapons. Between the lines is an important conclusion: the alliance with the U.S. is no longer seen as a guaranteed, selfless protection; it is a complex contract in which each side, including Seoul, must fiercely defend its interests. (asaninst.org)

Concurrently, the Korean media space is occupied by the theme of “Trumponomics‑2” and its consequences for export‑oriented Asian economies. Nomura analysts warn that a new wave of U.S. tariffs and export controls, including in semiconductors and AI, creates structural risks for South Korea, for which the U.S. remains both a key market and a key technology partner. In recent months Seoul closely watched the U.S.–Taiwan agreement reached in January 2026, after which the U.S. commerce secretary subjected Korean memory chip makers to additional pressure. Local reviews interpret this as a signal: Washington is ready to reforge its technology chains to minimize dependence on any single partner and to increase leverage over countries that do not fully follow the American line on China or other “problematic” directions. (hanaw.com)

Against this backdrop, isolated episodes of U.S. policy in the Western Hemisphere — for example, the new format “Shield of the Americas” — are perceived in Seoul or New Delhi not as a local anti‑narcotics project but as part of a general trend of militarization and regionalization of American foreign policy. Korean outlets, recounting Trump’s remarks at the Doral summit on 7 March 2026, where he simultaneously threatened Cuba and discussed operations against drug cartels, emphasize how easily the White House now moves from rhetoric to the use of military force far beyond the U.S., justifying it as a fight against terrorism, drug trafficking or “foreign interference.” Indian commentators see “Shield of the Americas” as an example of how the U.S. is shifting focus from universal institutions like the UN to flexible regional coalitions “based on interests,” with Washington as the unchallenged center. (en.wikipedia.org)

Where American policy directly affects ordinary people in these countries, narratives become especially emotional. South African audiences are outraged not only by the cessation of aid and the stigmatization of their country in rhetoric about “anti‑white racism,” but also by the overall sense that Washington is prepared to destroy partnerships built over decades for domestic political points. Columnists in Pretoria‑based outlets describe scenarios in which possible U.S. sanctions, withdrawal from trade agreements and refusal to cooperate on HIV/AIDS would effectively erase South Africa’s post‑pandemic and energy crisis recovery efforts. Against this backdrop there is growing public demand in South Africa for “active neutrality”: to be not just a non‑aligned country, but an actor that formulates a regional agenda independently, not adjusting to Washington, Beijing or Moscow. (cra-sa.com)

In India the most widely discussed dimension of U.S. policy remains the fate of students, IT specialists and migrants. Expert reviews directly cite research warning that a second Trump term could mean new restrictions on H‑1B and other visas, and the Indian press regularly publishes pieces on how tighter migration regimes, deportations and xenophobic rhetoric in the U.S. are changing India’s middle class attitude toward the “American dream.” One analytical review notes that a significant portion of the economic benefits the U.S. gains from relations with India — from higher education to digital services and intellectual property licensing — is based on the inflow of Indian students and professionals, but even this does not guarantee them stable status when domestic politics in Washington demands demonstrative “toughness” on migration. (nomuraconnects.com)

South Korea appears a more restrained actor in these debates, but an underlying skepticism about the reliability of the U.S. as a long‑term leader is evident. Foreign policy columns carry the idea that even if Washington remains an indispensable shield against North Korea and an increasingly assertive China, Seoul needs to accelerate development of its own defense, including missile‑nuclear components and cyber capabilities. In one essay a Korean author writes that “the U.S. is not eternal, and U.S. forces will leave someday,” concluding that Korea must today build a security architecture in which reliance on the U.S. alliance is important but not critical. This motif of self‑reliance unexpectedly echoes Indian and South African narratives — all three countries demonstrate unwillingness to be merely a “line of defense” in someone else’s grand strategy. (asaninst.org)

At the intersection of the three regional lenses a common theme emerges: the “normalization” of America as a normal great power with its sometimes harsh interests, rather than an infallible moral benchmark. South African columnists compare current U.S. policies — from the “capture” of Nicolás Maduro and the detention of Venezuelan vessels to refusal to recognize international court rulings — to the actions of other great powers and conclude that the U.S. has finally ceased to be the “guardian of international law,” becoming another actor willing to bypass norms when convenient. In India’s expert community there is growing conviction that cooperation with America should be based solely on pragmatic grounds, without illusions about a “natural alliance of democracies.” In Seoul the debate intensifies about how to reconcile a strategic alliance with Washington with trends toward regionalization and the need to build a more autonomous strategy in the Asia‑Pacific. (timeslive.co.za)

Yet in Pretoria, New Delhi and Seoul what predominates is not antagonism but complex realism. In South Africa they still recognize the U.S. as a crucial economic partner and technology donor; Indian authors stress that no other actor can offer comparable access to advanced military and space systems; Korean strategists see no replacement for the U.S. nuclear umbrella in the foreseeable future. But the notion of “U.S. leadership” is being replaced by a vision of the world as a field of multiple centers of power, where Washington is just one, and often a complicated and unpredictable, player.

This is why local voices insist on the need for “active neutrality” in South Africa, “clear‑eyed interests” in India and “preparation for autonomy” in South Korea. Each of the three countries is rearranging its relations with the United States in its own way, trying to turn asymmetry into a bargaining resource. Viewed not through the eyes of Washington analysts but through the prism of these three regional debates, it becomes clear: the main question for the world today is no longer “what does America want,” but “how to deal with it so as not to lose one’s own sovereignty and development prospects.”

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"America as a Source of Anxiety and Dependence": How France, Germany and Israel Are Arguing Today about...

In early April 2026, discussions about the United States in France, Germany and Israel are not limited to one or two high‑profile episodes but form a whole tangle of interconnected storylines: war with Iran and the American military presence in the Middle East, Washington's intervention in Venezuela, economic dominance and a productivity gap, internal legal battles inside America, and — especially in Israel — the painful question of who really controls the American‑Israeli alliance. These themes intersect to form a common nerve: the US is simultaneously perceived as an indispensable center of power and as a source of instability that imposes its priorities and ideology on allies.

The main backdrop for the European debate is the US and Israeli military escalation with Iran. German economic and stock market outlets directly link the trajectory of the DAX index and growth forecast revisions to the conduct of the war and statements by US President Donald Trump. In ntv’s trading overview on April 1, it is emphasized that hopes for a swift end to the war with Iran are spurring stock gains, but the report also notes US preparations for a "limited ground operation"; Trump, according to the German press, insists that no "deal" with Iran is needed, because Washington will ensure Tehran does not develop nuclear weapons.(ad-hoc-news.de) For German commentators, this show of hard power is a reminder that Europe is tethered to the decisions of the American administration: war hits energy, inflation and GDP growth, and all Berlin can do is adapt its policy.

The French perspective is somewhat different: Paris pays much closer attention to the legal and political consequences of "Trumpism" inside the United States and what that means for European democracy. In early April French publications gave detailed coverage to US Supreme Court hearings on Trump's initiative to revisit the principle of jus soli — "right of the soil", which guarantees citizenship by birth on American territory. Photo reports of rallies at the court building, where demonstrators defend birthright citizenship, were accompanied by analysis of how an attempt to reconfigure the notion of citizenship fits into a broader trend: the US, long presented as an "immigrant nation," risks becoming a country where citizenship is a tool of political control and exclusion.(franceguyane.fr) French commentators inevitably draw parallels with their own debates on citizenship and migration, but the key tone is this: if America — which Europe for decades cited as a model of constitutional stability — begins to radically change the rules of the game, that is a blow to the established liberal benchmark.

The German debate focuses more on the economic and technological aspects of American influence. Commentaries in the financial and business press note that US employment and inflation data published at the end of March–early April immediately affect expectations for Fed rates and, therefore, European markets: German investors literally "look to Washington" to understand where the DAX will head.(ad-hoc-news.de) At the same time, analysis of the digital economy and artificial intelligence develops another line: the US is consolidating technological superiority, opening an ever‑wider "productivity gap" between the American and European economies. German experts stress that the problem is not only technical — Europe lacks regulatory boldness and political will to allow its companies to act as aggressively and quickly as American ones.(ad-hoc-news.de)

Against this backdrop Germany acts both as a US ally and as a restrained critic. In surveys of international affairs, Germans discuss how Berlin supported American strikes on Venezuela and Iran, stressing that this is part of the West’s broader strategic line of "fighting tyranny", while domestically there is debate over how unconditionally Germany should follow Washington. In response to US intervention in Venezuela, representatives of the conservative CDU/CSU bloc called the fall of the Maduro regime an "encouraging signal", highlighting the value dimension of American actions.(en.wikipedia.org) Yet German economists add immediately: every American military decision returns to Europe in the form of oil price shocks, migration waves and defense spending.

The French political discussion about the US is noticeably polarized. In National Assembly transcripts deputies alternately criticize Washington for turning international institutions into "an instrument in its hands" and acknowledge that without American security guarantees European policy toward Iran, Russia or China simply does not work. In February 2026 debates, the French discussed growing US pressure on Europeans to "do more" — both financially and politically — in joint operations and sanctions regimes.(assemblee-nationale.fr) The fault line runs along a familiar axis: some still see America as the necessary "shield" of the West, others increasingly see a revisionist power acting outside the norms it helped build after 1945.

The Israeli perspective is fundamentally different: there the US is not an abstract superpower but an existential partner on which security, the economy and diplomatic maneuverability depend. But in 2025–2026 two coexisting narratives are audible in the Israeli public sphere: on one hand, the majority of Israelis in polls by the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI) say the alliance with the US is vital and are ready to make significant concessions to preserve it; on the other hand, on social media and in columns anxiety is growing: has Israel crossed a line by imposing its agenda on Washington.(jppi.org.il)

JPPI reports emphasize that a significant portion of Israeli Jews believe: in a conflict with American policy Israel should "do what it deems right," but the majority still favor "major efforts, including compromises," to preserve the alliance.(jppi.org.il) Yet on Hebrew forums and Reddit threads discussing the US role in the current war, a very different tone can be found. One user, half‑jokingly but tellingly, writes that "Bibi controls Trump like a puppet" and that "אם הדעה שאנחנו כפינו את המלחמה על ארה\"ב תהיה יותר פופולרית זה הולך להשפיע באופן קיומי על היחסים שלנו עם ארה\"ב" — "if the opinion that we forced the war on the US becomes more popular, this will existentially affect our relations with the US."(reddit.com) Beneath the irony lies fear: the image of Israel as a manipulator could undermine the very basis of support in Congress and American society.

Running in parallel is a more technocratic storyline: Israel’s inclusion in the US visa‑waiver program. Israeli media present Washington’s recent decision as a long‑awaited success in bilateral relations and a practical relief for travelers: instead of the classic visa one can now obtain an electronic ESTA authorization for 90 days.(chabad.info) But behind this everyday facade lies asymmetry: it is the US that sets admission rules, lengths of stay and even how dual‑citizens must behave. Israeli lawyers and bloggers cautiously remind readers that visa‑free travel is not a right but a privilege that Washington can adjust at any moment depending on the political conjuncture.

A notable shift in Israeli analysis is the emergence of works describing a "transformation of the US into a revisionist autocratic hegemony." In one recent Hebrew research paper, American policy in recent years is described as "turning national security into justification for direct control over rare earth resources, sea lanes and critical territories," and as reconfiguring the legal status of those who assist migrants in the spirit of "enemy‑fighters."(debugliesintel.com) The tone is clearly critical, but the important fact is that even in a country that for decades has seen the US as a guarantor of survival there is now an academic vocabulary to describe America as a force undermining stability and international law rather than protecting them.

In the German and French press the topic of war with Iran and American military build‑up in the Middle East is intertwined with another conflict — between the US and Spain. Spain’s decision to deny Washington use of the joint Rota and Morón bases for operations against Iran, and Trump’s sharp reaction threatening to "completely stop trade with Spain," are perceived in Berlin and Paris as a worrying signal: the US is ready to punish even NATO allies if they do not follow its lead.(en.wikipedia.org) For Europeans, especially Germans who depend on the American security umbrella, this underscores the fragility of "transatlantic solidarity": legally the alliance exists, but politically the White House increasingly acts in a logic of transactions and pressure.

It is interesting that reactions to US intervention in Venezuela are colored differently in Europe and Israel. For many European politicians, the change of power in Caracas is "hope for Venezuela", as German Christian Democrat Jürgen Hardt put it, but at the same time it is a potential precedent legitimizing Washington’s use of force: if today it is an authoritarian regime in Latin America, commentators ask, where will the line be drawn tomorrow between defending human rights and neocolonial intervention?(en.wikipedia.org) Israeli analysts are primarily concerned whether the new front line will divert US resources from the Middle Eastern theater, where Israel’s fate, in their view, depends on American aircraft carriers and missile‑defense systems.

A common motif in all three countries remains dependence on the economic and financial power of the US. French macroeconomic reviews closely track Federal Reserve forecasts and how US inflation and employment will affect ECB decisions. One recent bulletin emphasizes that an expected Fed rate cut in May 2026 will be a key factor for the euro exchange rate and for the financing conditions of French debt.(latribune.lazardfreresgestion.fr) German authors add that US growth or decline sets the tone on European exchanges "faster and more strongly than any domestic decisions in Berlin or Paris."(ad-hoc-news.de)

If one attempts to synthesize these disparate voices, a complex but coherent portrait emerges. For France, the US is still the main external referent for democracy and the rule of law, but now with an anxious caveat: American internal battles over citizenship, migration and the rule of law become a mirror in which the French see their own fears and debates. For Germany, America is both an indispensable economic and military anchor and a factor of instability: every Washington move on Iran, Venezuela or trade is felt as DAX fluctuations, forecast revisions and a new wave of debates about Europe's strategic autonomy. For Israel, the US remains the axis around which the logic of national security is constructed, but everyday conversation increasingly raises the question: where is the boundary between an alliance and a dangerous, existential dependence — and is America turning from a "patron" into a revisionist power capable of as easily changing the rules of the game as it is today changing ESTA conditions or legal definitions of citizenship at home?

That is why contemporary French, German and Israeli texts about the US read not as peripheral commentaries on American policy but as an attempt to rethink their own place in a world where Washington remains a center of power — but one that is increasingly unpredictable and increasingly prone to unilateral decisions.

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How the World Debates Washington: Turkey, Russia and China on the US Role

Today the image of the United States beyond the West is formed less through classic narratives of "American democracy" and more through the prism of wars, sanctions, energy and the struggle for influence in Eurasia. In Ankara Washington is discussed as a difficult but necessary partner; in Moscow — as a tired hegemon trying to hold on to a fading advantage; in Beijing — as the main strategic rival whose domestic problems only expose the weak points of the "American model." An important nuance: all three countries perceive the US not abstractly but through very specific conflicts and corridors — from Ukraine and Iran to the South China Sea and the South Caucasus.

The first major storyline around which Turkish, Russian and Chinese discussions converge is US involvement in armed conflicts in the Middle East and around Ukraine. Russian commentators interpret Washington’s current line as a deliberate strategy of protracted attrition against opponents. Thus, former CIA analyst Larry Johnson, whose words were widely circulated in Russian media, bluntly states that the goal of US policy on the Ukrainian front was to provoke Moscow into retaliatory action for its "strategic defeat." Russian outlets readily cite this thesis as confirmation of a long‑standing accusation: that the US allegedly deliberately turns other countries' territories into proxy-war zones, avoiding paying the own price for escalation. (fedpress.ru)

Russian expert circles analyze American involvement in the Iran‑Israel confrontation with similar skepticism. Analytical pieces emphasize that dragging Washington into confrontation with Iran supposedly weakens its resource base for supporting Kyiv and ultimately forces the US into a painful choice between multiple theaters of tension. This idea links to a broader picture: US, in the assessment of Russian authors, is no longer capable of fighting "two big wars" while simultaneously containing China as it did during the Cold War; therefore, each new crisis accelerates the erosion of American hegemony. (newpressa.pressa.ru)

Chinese observers, for their part, view American foreign policy as an attempt to play on two fronts at once — against Beijing in the Indo‑Pacific and against Moscow in Europe. In the Global Times, often cited by Russian media, it is noted that the White House formula of readiness to concentrate simultaneously on "two theaters" — the European and the Asian — is perceived in China as a dangerous delusion of strength. Beijing experts effectively question the US ability to sustain a long confrontation with two major powers at once, reminding readers that Washington’s resources are no longer commensurate with the era of postwar dominance. (mk.ru)

Against this backdrop, the Turkish discussion about the US is built around a different lens — Washington’s role in the complex energy and transport hub of Eurasia. American support for projects aimed at bypassing Russia and Iran, for example in the South Caucasus, is seen in Turkey both as an opportunity and a risk. The US‑promoted transport corridor through the South Caucasus, intended to link Turkey and Azerbaijan with Central Asia while bypassing Russian and Iranian territory, is viewed in Ankara as part of a broader game: Washington seeks to limit the influence of Moscow and Tehran, while Ankara aims to consolidate its own role as a key bridge between Europe and the Turkic world. For Turkey this is an opportunity to strengthen its autonomy, but also a source of pressure: any abrupt US move risks destabilizing a region where Turkish, Russian, Iranian and Chinese interests are tightly interwoven. (en.wikipedia.org)

The second major thematic block is sanctions and economic pressure as the main instrument of American foreign policy. In Russia this is described as "sanctioned neocolonialism" and an attempt to retain control over the global financial architecture. Russian economic analysts examine in detail the history of petrodollars and US agreements with key energy producers, arguing that this is what allowed Washington for decades to export internal imbalances and finance a global military presence. Against this backdrop, the current sanctions campaign against Russia is interpreted as part of a struggle to preserve the dollar core of the world economy, in which Moscow and its partners are trying to build alternative payment mechanisms. (konoplyanik.ru)

In China the emphasis is different: US sanctions and export controls are seen as an attempt to slow China’s technological development and prevent the formation of independent supply chains. Beijing authors often note that Washington is effectively turning the global economy into a field of geopolitical confrontation, forcing third countries to choose between American and Chinese standards and markets. At the same time, the Chinese press emphasizes that such tactics only spur accelerated development of domestic technologies and the strengthening of ties with Russia and countries of the global South. (i-sng.ru)

Turkey brings a particular angle: it has become a target of American sanctions over trade with Russia and several other incidents. In Turkish debates the US is often described as a partner that readily resorts to financial and trade pressure even against formal NATO allies. Against this background the idea of Ankara’s "strategic autonomy" is strengthening as it navigates between Moscow, Washington and Beijing while building its own energy and logistics combinations. Turkish commentators see the US sanctions policy not only as a threat but also as an opening: sanctions push middle powers to create regional cooperation formats less dependent on American rules of the game. (reddit.com)

The third important theme is the image of the US as an internally unstable society that has lost the moral authority to lecture others. Here the Chinese discourse is the most severe. Official and pro‑government outlets regularly use mass shootings, racial tension and social inequality in the US as an argument against the "American human rights narrative." In one piece by a Chinese foreign policy body the epidemic of armed violence is described as a "fatal disease" that the American political system cannot cope with because of corporate lobbying. Protests in Washington, where activists laid out hundreds of black body bags on the Capitol lawn, are interpreted as a vivid illustration of elite hypocrisy who limit themselves to "thoughts and prayers" after each new tragedy. (idcpc.gov.cn)

In Russia US domestic problems are also widely covered, but the emphasis differs: attention is focused on political polarization, the crisis of trust in institutions and the rise of extreme radicalism. Russian commentators like to remind audiences of stories related to conspiracy movements, protests in Washington and the bitter struggle between Republicans and Democrats to show that "American democracy" is no longer a model to emulate. At the same time, in expert journals a more sober assessment appears: internal conflict in the US is recognized as a factor limiting its capacity for long‑term strategic planning on external fronts — from Ukraine to the Indo‑Pacific. (mk.ru)

Chinese and Russian readers receive an additional stroke to this portrait through stories about corporate influence on US media and politics. The Chinese press, reporting on mass layoffs at the Washington Post and the influence of billionaire owners on editorial policy, builds the line that even major American media are increasingly dependent on the interests of economic and political elites and less and less play the role of an independent "fourth estate." This conveniently fits into the broader critique of "American standards" of free speech. (usa.people.com.cn)

A fourth cross‑cutting motif is the long‑term redistribution of influence and the formation of informal blocs around and against the US. In Russia the concept labeled by Western analysts with the acronym CRINK — an axis of China, Russia, Iran and the DPRK, presented as a "new axis of evil" or an "axis of autocracies" — is widely discussed. Russian authors point out that this construct itself originated in the American analytical community and reflects Washington’s fear of the consolidation of states that do not fit into the liberal order. For the Russian audience this is presented as evidence that the US still thinks in terms of bloc confrontation rather than seeking more flexible coexistence formats. (en.wikipedia.org)

In Beijing such labels are seen as a convenient propaganda tool but not as an accurate description of Chinese foreign policy. Chinese commentators constantly emphasize that the PRC does not seek to create military blocs and that it is the US that builds systems of "exclusive alliances" — from AUKUS to configurations involving Japan and the Philippines — aimed at containing China. From Beijing’s perspective, the main contradiction of the future world order lies in whether it will continue to be run by Washington or become polycentric. In this logic the US is portrayed not as a guarantor of stability but as a country painfully experiencing the loss of its monopoly on making key decisions. (mk.ru)

The Turkish angle on this global reshuffle is also interesting. In expert discussions in Ankara the idea increasingly heard is that the era of the "unipolar American moment" is over and is being replaced by a mosaic of regional centers of power. Turkey aspires to become one of these centers — through the Organization of Turkic States, initiatives on a unified Turkic alphabet, and the creation of transport and energy corridors from Central Asia to the Mediterranean. In these discussions the US appears sometimes as a potential partner interested in reducing the influence of Russia, Iran and China, and sometimes as an external actor whose steps could upset the fragile balance among Ankara, Moscow and Tehran. Turkish analysts stress that any American bet in Eurasia must inevitably take into account the increased subjectivity of regional powers — otherwise Washington risks pushing them into even closer ties with each other. (en.wikipedia.org)

Against all this, local voices in the three countries often formulate a similar, if differently shaded, conclusion: the US remains a key actor without whom no major international crisis can be resolved, but trust in its intentions and its ability to act as an honest arbiter is at a minimum. In Moscow this is expressed in rhetoric about Washington’s "unreliability" as a negotiating partner: Russian officials and experts constantly remind audiences of NATO enlargement, US unilateral withdrawals from arms control treaties and sanction practices which, in their view, undermine the foundations of mutual trust. (fedpress.ru)

In Beijing doubts are formulated in more restrained terms, but the essence is the same: the United States is seen as a power that speaks on behalf of the "international community" but in practice often ignores the interests of the majority of countries in the global South when they do not coincide with the American agenda. It is advantageous for China to emphasize the contrast between Washington’s declared universalism and its selective responses to crises — from Palestine to Asia. In Turkish discourse distrust turns into constant comparison of US policy with the approaches of other partners: Ankara watches closely who is ready to take Turkish interests into account in Syria, the Caucasus and the Black Sea, and who seeks to limit its maneuverability under the rhetoric of "collective security."

All this creates a paradoxical effect. As the US loses the status of an unambiguous moral authority, its factual significance in the calculations of Ankara, Moscow and Beijing does not diminish but becomes more complex. Turkey uses the competition among the US, Russia and China to strengthen its own regional role. Russia, criticizing Washington as a tired hegemon, simultaneously structures a significant part of its foreign policy rhetoric precisely around confrontation with it — thereby indirectly confirming that the American factor remains central. China, questioning the US ability to fight on two fronts and exposing its internal problems, nonetheless builds a long‑term strategy as if rivalry with Washington is the main structural factor of the 21st century.

Three countries, three different political regimes and three different historical experiences converge on one point: the role of the US is no longer described by simple formulas like "leader of the free world" or "empire of evil." In Turkey, Russia and China Washington is seen as a complex and contradictory player whose power remains enormous but whose ability to set the rules of the game single‑handedly is increasingly the subject of heated debate. These national conversations — in Ankara, Moscow and Beijing — are to a large extent determining what the world order after the American century will look like: a world of competing blocs or a network of intersecting centers of power in which the US is only one of several.

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The world views Washington through gunsights and calculators

At the end of March 2026 the United States is again at the center of global attention — but not as a “bulwark of democracy,” rather as a country that, together with Israel, has launched a large-scale war against Iran, risking the involvement of the entire Middle East and the global energy market. In Saudi Arabia, Australia and South Korea Washington is being discussed primarily through the prism of this war: how it is reshaping regional security, driving up oil and gas prices, squeezing budgets, and at the same time exposing long-standing doubts about American strategy and reliability.

At the same time, in each of these societies the conversation about the US takes a different form: in the Saudi and wider Arab press there is both fear of Iran and an irritated distrust of Washington; in Australia there is debate about whether the country has gone too far following its American ally; in South Korea military themes are mixed with calculating economic and climate concerns: how to survive American tariffs, expensive oil and new waves of climate disasters inside the United States.

The main common theme is the US and Israel’s war against Iran. But three overlapping layers grow out from it: security and the risk of a major regional war; the economic and energy shock; and, finally, the question of whether Washington can at all strategically plan and maintain leadership.

In the Middle East this war is often described as “American-Israeli” — a formula that automatically sets the emotional tone of the debate. The Egyptian Al-Ahram Center in a recent analytical piece dissects the “gray zones” of the conflict, stressing that Washington wants not just to carry out strikes but to force capitulation or a radical change in the behavior of the Iranian regime, while in reality it is strengthening in Tehran exactly those circles associated with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. (acpss.ahram.org.eg)

From Lebanon and the Gulf countries the Arab press carries the idea that the war has acquired a logic the US no longer fully controls. The Lebanese Al-Joumhouria, analyzing Iran’s strikes on Gulf countries and discussions about involving Arab armies, quotes US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth assuring that Iran “cannot withstand” American power, while at the same time noting a growing regional conversation: who actually gave President Donald Trump the “mandate” to drag the region into this escalation. (aljoumhouria.com)

The Saudi and Gulf perspective on Washington is particularly contradictory. On the one hand, it is Saudi and Emirati elites — Western sources note — who in private urge the White House to “go all the way” until Iran is strategically weakened, although in the first days of the bombings they complained that the US did not warn its allies and underestimated the risks of total destabilization of the region. (apnews.com)

On the other hand, Arab columns evoke a long memory of double standards. The Yemeni Al-Ayyam, recalling the 2019 strike on Saudi oil infrastructure at Abqaiq and the current Iranian missile strikes on facilities in the Gulf, emphasizes: Washington rushes with utmost determination to defend Israel, but the protection of Arab allies is always tied to purely American interests and domestic politics. “This event confirms the United States’ double standards toward those it considers allies: ‘Israel’ must be defended, while the defense of others is conditioned only by its own interests,” the author writes, pointing out that even now the United States has not been able to fully prevent strikes on Gulf facilities despite a record-dense air defense system. (alayyam.info)

The Saudi discourse about the US is not limited to reproaches. In a number of Saudi and regional pieces the US is described as the only force realistically capable of containing Iranian expansion. An analytical note on the Makkah site stresses that global media increasingly write less about “combat successes” and more about the political and economic consequences of the war, but for the Persian Gulf states the strike on Iran’s missile and naval capabilities is a real, tangible goal without which “long-term stability is impossible.” (makkahnews.sa)

At the same time regional sources reveal a split within the Cooperation Council itself: some capitals pull Washington toward a “final solution to the Iranian question,” others — primarily Doha and Muscat — signal to the US that the war must be wound down as quickly as possible, otherwise the consequences for the energy market and security will outweigh any benefit from weakening Iran. Kurdish agency ANHA writes directly about two camps: “the first, led by Saudi Arabia and the UAE, inclines toward continuing the war to achieve decisive results; the second, led by Qatar and Oman, calls for a rapid end to the conflict.” (hawarnews.com)

Against this backdrop of division, Arab media especially nervously discuss the question: does Washington even have a clear exit strategy or is it repeating the Iraq scenario with inflated expectations, a protracted war and undermined legitimacy? A column on Kassioun cites a University of Maryland poll: only 21% of Americans support strikes on Iran, almost half are opposed, while the White House has to spend up to a billion dollars a day on combat operations and at the same time lift some sanctions on Iranian oil to cool the price spike. The author concludes that Washington has trapped itself strategically, where military success does not convert into political victory. (kassioun.org)

The Australian conversation about the United States traditionally runs through the ANZUS alliance and the “big brother” role in the Anglo-Saxon world. But the war with Iran has made this conversation less automatic and more nervous. The fact that Australian military personnel found themselves aboard the American submarine that sank the Iranian frigate IRIS Dena triggered a wave of debate in Canberra: how deeply should Australia be woven into American operations far from its own region? (en.wikipedia.org)

Notably, the discussion almost immediately shifted from legal formalities to political responsibility. In parliamentary and expert comments cited by the English-language and Australian press, some politicians demand greater transparency: on what terms did the government agree to the participation of Australians in specific combat episodes, and does this create a situation where Canberra is automatically dragged into escalation without controlling its beginning or possible end.

At the same time Australia views the US through another Iran-related theme — the 2025–2026 protests, brutally suppressed by the regime in Tehran. Here Washington appears more as a political-symbolic center: the US administration, Congress, and the US ambassador to the UN issued loud statements in support of the Iranian demonstrators, and President Trump threatened to intervene if protests were “poured in blood.” But Australian authorities — Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and Foreign Minister Penny Wong — also publicly supported the protesters, aligning rhetorically with the US. For many in Canberra this looked like a sensible combination: share the values position with Washington, but be far more cautious about joint military adventures. (en.wikipedia.org)

This duality is visible in the tone of many Australian commentaries. On one hand, the US is still described as the key security guarantor in the Indo-Pacific region, especially vis-à-vis China. On the other — the Iraq experience, the Afghan withdrawal and now the Iranian campaign are increasingly cited as examples of Washington opening military “boxes” without thinking through what comes next.

If the Arab press focuses on how the war affects security and politics, the South Korean press focuses on how American strategy hits energy prices and, more broadly, the global economy on which export-oriented Korea depends. A review in BrandEconomy News bluntly states: one of the key risks to Korean growth in 2026 is prolonged high oil prices amid the Middle East war; with an annual average price around $100 per barrel growth could be further undermined by 0.2–0.3 percentage points. The US figures here as the country whose military and sanction policies effectively determine the world price of energy resources. (benews.co.kr)

Korean analysts emphasize that for Seoul the American factor is twofold: on the one hand Washington remains the largest market and the most important political partner; on the other — Trump’s tariff wars, including new 50%-tariffs on certain imported metals, are hitting Korean industry right now. One Korean investment blog, analyzing the surge in aluminum prices, describes a “triple hit” — the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, American tariffs and the loss of some supplies from Russia and the Middle East. In this interpretation the US is not only a security guarantor but also a source of severe price shocks. (chuladora.com)

Another line of the Korean conversation about the US is climate and the vulnerability of American infrastructure. Korean media examine forecasts for a “historically worst wildfire season” in the US western states in summer 2026 after an abnormally warm and low-snow winter. A piece in GoodMorning Magazine emphasizes that this is not only an American catastrophe but also a lesson for Seoul: even a superpower with colossal resources cannot keep up with rapid climate shifts, which means Korean climate and forest policy cannot rely on the illusion that “American science will keep everything under control.” (goodmorningzine.co.kr)

Against this background another theme is interesting: the sense that in high-tech areas Washington is institutionally falling behind. South Korean outlets write with noticeable satisfaction that Korea became one of the first countries in the world with a comprehensive AI law already in force, while the US still lacks a unified federal regulatory framework. One review in Allrevenews effectively puts Korean and European AI policies on par, noting: “Unlike the EU and especially the US, where discussion of a single law is still ongoing, in Korea it is already fully in effect.” Thus in South Korean optics the US appears simultaneously as a technological standard-bearer and a regulatory laggard. (allrevenews.com)

Through all these stories — from missiles over the Persian Gulf to fires in California and aluminum tariffs — runs the same question asked by politicians and commentators in Riyadh, Canberra and Seoul: is America today capable of being a predictable center of the global architecture?

American society, according to data cited by Middle Eastern authors, does not give Washington a clear mandate. The University of Maryland records that only a fifth of US citizens support strikes on Iran, almost half are opposed; meanwhile Trump justifies rising gasoline prices as a “small price” for the war, and the Pentagon is asking for another $200 billion, which amounts to more than $1,400 per household. (apnews.com)

Different capitals draw different conclusions from this.

In Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states elites, on the one hand, try to use the US “moment of strength” to inflict a strategic defeat on Iran, and on the other increasingly speak about the need for their own multi-vector policies and that in the long run Washington guarantees neither a complete umbrella nor stable oil prices. In Australia the argument grows louder that the alliance with the US remains a cornerstone of security, but blind following of American decisions outside the Asia-Pacific is a luxury the country cannot afford. In South Korea, where memories of the 1950s war and dependence on the American nuclear umbrella remain strong, the US is perceived simultaneously as an indispensable shield against the DPRK and China and as a source of structural risks — from trade wars to global shocks in oil and climate.

And perhaps the most surprising common note across all three countries is a growing feeling that Washington’s influence is no longer measured only by the number of aircraft carriers and sanction regimes. As the editorial board of the Christian Science Monitor noted in a recent column about the Iran war, “the most powerful force of the United States remains not its fleet but its ability to speak truth.” (csmonitor.com) Outside the US more and more observers are watching closely whether this ability will hold: will Washington be honest with itself and its allies in assessing the consequences of its wars, and is it ready to pay not only in money and others’ stability but in political responsibility.

The answer to that question today will determine not only the further fate of the campaign against Iran but also how Riyadh, Canberra and Seoul will build their futures — together with America or increasingly independently of it.

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How the World Argues with America: Iran War, China Trade and the Cost of Gulf Security

At the end of March 2026, discussions about the United States in France, South Korea and Saudi Arabia almost inevitably boil down to three interconnected narratives. First, the US‑Israeli war against Iran that began on February 28 and its consequences for the Middle East and the global economy. Second, the broader question of how Washington’s role in the security architecture is changing – from the Persian Gulf to the Korean Peninsula and the Indo‑Pacific. Third, the “economic projection of US power” – tariffs, sanctions and attempts to both pressure China and keep allies in its orbit. Each of the three societies we examine sees something different in these processes: the French press debates the risks of nuclear escalation and Europe’s autonomy, South Korean analysts view Iran through the prism of US–China rivalry, and Saudi and regional Arab commentators try to understand whether their region has become the costly testing ground of a Washington strategy.

The central axis of all these discussions is the US and Israeli war on Iran. Arab and Middle Eastern media, including Arabic‑language outlets, emphasize that unlike previous “proxy wars,” the current conflict, since February 28, 2026, has taken on the characteristics of a direct regional war. As the Moroccan outlet Assahifa writes in its analysis, the strike on Iranian territory was an attempt “to move a prolonged confrontation to a new level,” where the issue is no longer only the nuclear program but a “reformatting of the entire Middle Eastern balance of power” and preventing the emergence of a regional power capable of acting outside the Western sphere of influence. The author writes plainly: the formal justification is to neutralize a missile‑nuclear threat, but the strategic horizon is the “reconfiguration” of the region and the prevention of independent geopolitics by Tehran, which over two decades has built a network of influence from Iraq to Lebanon and Yemen, posing a “structural challenge” to the postwar order. It is in this much broader context that the role of the United States as the leading military force in the conflict is considered.

The Saudi and wider Gulf perspective is paradoxical: the GCC states largely depend on American military protection, yet they have become one of the main targets of Iran’s retaliatory strikes. UN Human Rights Council reports and regional Arab media extensively quote Gulf representatives who note that, by estimates, over 80% of Iranian missile strikes hit Arab states rather than Israel—an outcome perceived in Riyadh and Amman as a perverse signal: by allying with the US and holding the status of “major non‑NATO allies,” these countries are paying directly with attacks on their territory and civilian infrastructure. Saudi Ambassador to the UN in Geneva Abdulmohsin bin Hethaila, in a speech at an emergency Human Rights Council session, emphasizes that Iran’s missile strikes are a “blatant violation of sovereignty” and create a “direct threat to international peace and security,” but at regional discussions a quieter question increasingly arises: by launching a large‑scale operation against Iran, didn’t Washington make the Gulf states a target of a much larger game without effectively strengthening their missile defense shield?

In Saudi Arabia’s analytical columns and business press, the purely pragmatic side of the war—oil and trade—is also discussed. Financial sites in the region note that oil prices first spiked after Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz, through which about a quarter of global supplies pass, and then corrected amid rumors of a 15‑point peace plan that the US allegedly sent to Tehran. As the portal Boursa.info points out, reports that Washington had submitted a comprehensive ceasefire proposal to Iran allowed oil prices to recover part of the losses caused by market panic. In another piece on the T Matrix resource, analyst Haysam al‑Jundi writes that gold is reaching new highs because investors doubt the sincerity and feasibility of the American plan: as long as Iran continues night missile‑drone attacks on Gulf states and Israel, markets price in a “premium for distrust of US peacemaking initiatives.” Saudi columnists in outlets like Oman’s Al‑Ruya go further, asking: “Is Trump’s plan a peace initiative or a war manoeuvre?” They note that the US president’s conditions—particularly a strict ultimatum to reopen the Strait of Hormuz coupled with threats to strike Iran’s energy infrastructure—lead Tehran to suspect Washington of preparing, “under the guise of negotiations,” the ground for a yet more destructive strike, while regional markets view a ceasefire as a temporary respite for pressure to be re‑engineered.

The French debate about the same war is markedly different in tone. Paris is not a direct missile target, but it is engaged simultaneously as a NATO member, participant in the coalition ensuring freedom of navigation, and as a nuclear power with its own vision of European strategic autonomy. Already in February–early March, French analytical circles shifted attention to two themes: how US participation in the strike on Iran changes the risks of escalation to nuclear or cyber warfare, and whether Europe can build its own “nuclear umbrella” without fully relying on the United States. In this context President Emmanuel Macron’s March 2 speech at the submarine missile base in Île‑Long received wide discussion; he spoke about the evolution of French deterrence and, essentially, offered that Europeans consider the French arsenal as part of collective defense. Commentators in specialized nuclear‑deterrence bulletins noted that the new US‑Iran confrontation only reinforced Macron’s thesis: if the US can at any time drag NATO into a large‑scale Middle Eastern conflict, the EU must have its “own voice” on the use of force and de‑escalation. In a strategic studies bulletin on nuclear deterrence, French experts emphasize that Washington and Seoul recently “seriously strengthened” coordination on nuclear planning for the Korean Peninsula, showing that the US is ready to flexibly adapt deterrence architecture for allies, but in Europe there is no clear institutional scheme for such interaction. Hence the calls for a “European pillar” within the transatlantic alliance.

At the same time, France, as host of the recent meeting of G7 foreign ministers in Vaux‑de‑Cernay near Paris, positions itself as a platform for aligning US, European and Japanese positions on Iran and other hotspots. Official foreign ministry communiqués stress the need for a “free and open Indo‑Pacific region based on the rule of law,” alongside discussions on Iran and the Middle East. In the French press this is read as an attempt to link two strands of US policy—the Middle Eastern and the Indo‑Pacific—into a single framework of “protecting the international order,” but many commentators note that behind this broad formula lies Europe’s growing dependence on Washington’s strategic decisions: from sanctions to military operations. The paradox is that Paris simultaneously supports a hard line against Iran’s nuclear program and criticizes the excessive use of US force, which automatically drags European forces into conflicts from the Strait of Hormuz to the Levant.

The South Korean view of the US‑Iran war is less emotional but much more “geo‑economic.” Major Seoul business and political outlets describe military actions in the Persian Gulf primarily as a new wave of “global turbulence” layered on existing US trade wars with China, hitting export‑oriented economies. In Korean analytical pieces the war with Iran is often placed in the same context as Donald Trump’s threats to Beijing of “colossal tariffs” and his subsequent attempts to soften rhetoric and present his moves as “help for China” rather than harm. The Arabic service of Euronews, whose materials are widely quoted in Asian reviews, emphasizes that Trump’s previous tariff measures—a 10% baseline import tax plus higher rates for countries with large surpluses—already hurt countries like South Korea, whose indexes fell on tariff‑war news. Korean columnists say that in a new Trump term the risk of repeating that scenario combines with an even more explosive foreign policy: war with Iran, tariff threats to China, and harsh pressure on technology and supply chains.

On a Korean global‑economy portal, an author writes bluntly: “For Korean companies tied to both the American and Chinese markets, the combination of a US war with Iran, sanctions on China and possible new tariffs is not abstract geopolitics but a survival issue.” He cites electronics, autos and chemicals as sectors accelerating production diversification to Vietnam, India and Mexico to “spread the risks created by American trade and sanctions policy.” In the same vein South Korean experts see the US line on freedom of navigation: the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and Iranian threats to block the Bab‑el‑Mandeb, the route to the Suez Canal, are viewed in Seoul primarily as a supply‑shock factor for energy importers, including Korea. On the one hand, the US acts as guarantor of sea‑lane security; on the other, some Korean analysts believe US actions provoked a scenario in which one of the key energy routes fell under threat.

Against this backdrop, the US–China confrontation becomes especially acute in South Korean discussions. Articles from Euronews Arabic service on the escalation of trade conflicts—from a 10% general tariff to threats of 100% duties on Chinese goods and talk of a “financial attack” on Beijing—are actively cited in Asian reviews because they underscore that demand for South Korean goods suffers when Washington and Beijing exchange blows. Korean authors add local memory: how the deployment of the US THAAD missile defense in 2017 provoked informal Chinese sanctions on Korean business. Now, as the US exerts heavy pressure on Beijing in semiconductors and advanced technologies, Seoul faces a choice of how to fit into the American “friendshoring” strategy without becoming the next target of China’s retaliation.

French and Saudi discourses on US–China frictions are also visible, though less dominant than discussions about the Iran war. French economic reviews from past years, still cited in light of a new wave of tariff threats, warned that a “tariff spiral” driven by Washington pushes the EU to position itself between two giants at the risk of recession. For Saudi Arabia, the Chinese aspect of American policy manifests mainly through the “battle for rare earths” and technology. A study by the Arab Centre for Political Studies, on Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s Washington visit, noted that the US and Saudi Arabia signed a framework agreement on cooperation in rare earth metals, allowing Washington to diversify sources outside China. Saudi analysts see this as a move toward a “great‑power competition era deal”: the US strengthens strategic partnership with Riyadh not only as the Gulf’s security linchpin but also as a supplier of critical raw materials, and in return expects closer political alignment along Iran–China–Russia lines.

Another important layer of US perception in Saudi Arabia and the Arab region is human‑rights criticism. Human Rights Watch, in a piece on the conflict in Iran and the Middle East, stresses that “since the start of the US‑Israeli offensive against Iran on February 28, 2026, all parties to the conflict bear responsibility for serious violations of the laws of war, including possible war crimes.” The organization cites, in particular, a post by Donald Trump threatening to “destroy various power plants, starting with the largest,” if Iran did not reopen the Strait of Hormuz within 48 hours. For Saudi and broader Arab audiences, such statements are further evidence that Washington is willing to consider regionally critical infrastructure as a lever of pressure, even if that entails risks of humanitarian catastrophe. Saudi officials attempt to keep the focus on condemning Iranian strikes on civilian targets within the Kingdom, but independent columns and social media increasingly carry the theme of a “double danger”: on one hand Iran, on the other hand an American “maximum pressure” strategy that does not always account for the vulnerability of Arab societies.

In France, where the human‑rights agenda is traditionally strong, NGO reports on the US‑Israeli campaign against Iran are received ambivalently. On the one hand, the political mainstream supports a hard line on Iran’s nuclear program, and President Macron, like his predecessors, stresses the importance of “preventing a nuclear breakout by Tehran.” On the other, French human‑rights organizations and center‑left media actively cite HRW’s assessments of possible war crimes by all parties, including the US and Israel, arguing that “rhetoric and actions ignore the laws of war.” Political talk shows and left‑leaning columns draw a parallel with the 2003 Iraq war: critics claim the US again relies on a unilateral interpretation of international law while European allies are left to “clean up diplomatic and humanitarian consequences.”

The South Korean perspective on laws and rights of war is somewhat more pragmatic. In Seoul they closely read reports of destroyed Iranian infrastructure and casualty counts presented by Iran at the same UN Human Rights Council sessions where Saudi representatives speak, but the main question for the Korean public is not legal but strategic: does US willingness to conduct a high‑intensity war with Iran mean it would respond just as decisively in the event of a major crisis on the Korean Peninsula or around Taiwan? Korean international‑relations journals stress that Washington demonstrates capacity for massive use of precision weapons and dominance in air and sea—according to estimates published, among others, in an Arab analytical article, the US managed to destroy up to 92% of Iran’s major naval vessels and more than 90% of their drone‑missile potential. For Korean hawks this is “proof that the American deterrent umbrella is real”; for more cautious analysts it is a worrying sign that in a crisis on the Peninsula the US might prefer a large‑scale military solution whose consequences neighboring countries would have to deal with.

Across all three countries another common theme emerges: fatigue with the unpredictability of American foreign policy. In France this is expressed in growing debates about European “strategic autonomy” and the need for tools independent of US domestic political cycles and Donald Trump’s personalist style. In South Korea it surfaces in debates over whether to strengthen its own nuclear potential or at least secure from the US a formalized mechanism of joint nuclear planning, modelled on NATO, to reduce the risk that war‑and‑peace decisions are made in Washington without adequate regard for Korean interests. In Saudi Arabia the debate centers on “multi‑vector” scenarios in which Washington remains a key security partner, but space for deals with China and Russia in oil, technology and arms gradually expands, allowing Riyadh to raise the price of its cooperation with the US.

And yet, despite mounting irritation, neither France, nor South Korea, nor Saudi Arabia has so far formed a clear demand to break with or radically distance itself from the United States. Rather, it is a gradual reassessment: Washington is still seen as an indispensable military and economic center of power, but no longer as the unconditional architect of the international order. French experts call for a “partnership of adults” in which Europe can argue with the US over Iran and China without breaking the alliance. South Korean analysts seek arrangements that prevent a security alliance with the US from becoming an economic trap in relations with China. Saudi commentators, finally, ask how to turn the painful experience of recent weeks—missile strikes on Gulf cities, oil price shocks, the threat of closed sea lanes—into leverage for a deal with Washington that is more favorable to the Kingdom.

In any case, today’s debates in Paris, Seoul and Riyadh teach a common lesson: the more the United States uses power—military, economic, technological—the more its allies and partners consider not only the benefits but the cost of that power. And the more actively Washington tries to retain the role of “architect of order,” initiating wars, sanctions and tariff wars, the louder the question grows across the world: are we willing to keep paying for this order if the price is now expressed not only in dollars but in missiles falling on our cities?

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"A World Burning by the American Script": How France, Turkey and Ukraine Are Debating the US Role...

At the end of March 2026, the map of the world is once again being viewed through the prism of Washington. The war of the United States and Israel with Iran, which began on February 28, strikes on oil and gas infrastructure in the Persian Gulf, Iranian retaliatory attacks on US bases and facilities in Gulf countries, a sharp jump in oil and gas prices, a plunge on Wall Street and nervousness in the financial markets — all of this makes America the center of almost every international conversation. Against this backdrop, Russia's war against Ukraine continues and the protracted debate over the scale and form of American aid to Kyiv persists. And when viewed from Paris, Ankara or Kyiv, the United States ceases to be an abstract superpower and becomes a very concrete factor in personal security, gasoline prices, tourism prospects and even the possibility of victory in war.

The common thread for all three countries is the feeling that Washington can no longer fight only "one war at a time." The war with Iran is perceived both as a continuation of long‑standing Middle Eastern interventionism and as a competing priority that is eating up resources that previously went to Ukraine. In France this is read through the prism of oil, inflation and the role of Trump in escalation; in Turkey — through anti‑Americanism, the threat of dragging the region into a "new Middle Ages" and Turkey’s growing value as a transit and military platform; in Ukraine — through the fear that the country will end up behind the Persian Gulf in the queue for American air‑defense systems.

The first major storyline uniting French and Turkish voices is precisely the US‑Israel war with Iran and its energy consequences. French analytical platforms and left‑wing outlets describe what is happening as a classic "war for control of oil," where Washington, in essence, is fighting not only Tehran but also for the architecture of the entire global hydrocarbon market. In a piece by the revolutionary left newspaper NPA about a "war for control of the Middle East and its oil" it is emphasized that the blockage of the Strait of Hormuz and the surge in oil prices coincided with Donald Trump's boastful statement that the US had "knocked out" 100 million barrels of Venezuelan oil by taking advantage of Maduro's overthrow, and is now trying to redistribute energy flows in its favor, turning the crisis into an opportunity for American oil interests and pushing Europe toward even greater dependence on the US as a supplier and guarantor of maritime security. The author explicitly reminds readers that it was Trump who, by withdrawing in 2018 from the Iran nuclear deal and tightening sanctions, laid the groundwork for the current escalation, which he now uses to consolidate the domestic electorate and allies abroad as a "wartime president" in the year of his return to the White House. NPA‑Révolutionnaires writes about this in the article "Une guerre pour le contrôle du Moyen‑Orient et son pétrole," stressing that under the slogan of fighting the Iranian bomb, the US and its allies are in effect dividing spheres of influence and commodity flows in the region.

French media more oriented toward economics view the American campaign against Iran through oil quotes and investor behavior. In reports about how the conflict in the region is "weighing down" global exchanges, French and Francophone outlets note: after the strikes on Iran began, including on the South Pars field, the price of Brent jumped by roughly $20, while stock indices in New York fell for several sessions in a row under the weight of global growth concerns. Analysis for financial professionals notes that "against the backdrop of a protracted conflict between the US and Iran, major American indices are again losing ground," and initial hopes for a quick diplomatic resolution are being replaced by an understanding of a prolonged scenario in which the US, despite Trump's statements about "victory," is forced to increase its military presence and ask Congress for additional hundreds of billions of dollars for the operation. Specialized outlet Tribune Assurance, for example, writes that investors are pricing in not only military risks but also the prospect of US debt burdens and new dollar volatility.

At the same time, in the left Francophone sphere, including translations of materials from Middle Eastern research centers, a more conceptual conversation is taking place: can the US even maintain a model of unilateral "umbrella" security guarantees for some Gulf monarchies and open hostility toward others without becoming a "permanent source of destabilization" in a zone critical to global capitalism? In a translated article on the portal "A l’Encontre" about the "geopolitical dilemma of the US regarding the Persian Gulf," it is stressed that the American strategy of rigidly constructing axes of allies and enemies effectively makes Washington an inevitable target for both Iranian strikes and popular dissatisfaction in the Arab world, and that the only sustainable way out would be a genuinely multipolar security format rather than the dominance of a single power.

In Turkey the same war is seen in a very different emotional register. Turkish news and analytical resources closely track every movement of American aircraft carriers and supply ships, noting the USS Gerald R. Ford in Souda Bay on Crete after operations in the Red Sea and pointing out how American presence densifies an arc from the Eastern Mediterranean to the Persian Gulf. Turkish site nefes.com, reporting on the arrival of the "giant aircraft carrier" to Crete while simultaneously covering Iranian strikes on facilities with American personnel in Kuwait and the Middle East, constructs an image of a region in which the US becomes both a target and a catalyst for the expansion of strikes: according to that portal, Iran claims an attack on a hotel in Dubai and the destruction of six American landing craft (LCUs) in the port of Shuwaikh in Kuwait using kamikaze drones.

Columnists from Turkey's left and Kemalist traditions draw broader conclusions from this. In a vivid column by Umit Zileli published on the same nefes.com under the title "İşbirlikçi Gladyo!" the author draws a line from past NATO "Gladio" secrets and US involvement in dirty operations in Turkey to the current "bloody spectacle" staged by the US and Israel in the Middle East. Zileli argues that "the US, once again led by an imitator of Hitler‑fascism, is putting on a performance, including for Turkey, capable of plunging the whole world into a new Middle Ages." This rhetoric reflects typical Turkish skepticism: wars in which Americans act as "directors" inevitably return as internal upheavals, strengthening the "deep state" and pressuring Turkish sovereignty. At the same time, Turkey objectively becomes even more indispensable as a transit corridor and politico‑military platform between the Black Sea, the Eastern Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf, so its elites bargain with Washington for maximal gains and minimal risks.

In the second major storyline — Ukraine — the US war with Iran is present as well, but from a different angle. Ukrainian and Kyiv‑aligned English‑language outlets view the Middle Eastern conflict primarily as a competitor for resources: the same Patriot missiles, the same precision munitions and the same attention of Congress. In an analytical commentary about how the "war in the Middle East is redefining Ukraine's future," published in mid‑March, it is stated bluntly: "Every day of the Iranian conflict is another day of respite for Moscow: another day when Patriots fall on Iran instead of protecting Kharkiv, another day when oil remains expensive, another day when the world forgets about Ukraine." The author notes that the US, Saudi Arabia, Japan, South Korea, Germany, the Netherlands and Ukraine itself are competing for the same missiles and air‑defense systems, meaning each new weapons package to support operations against Iran is an invisible deduction from future supplies to Kyiv.

Nevertheless, Ukrainian expert discussion retains the understanding that without the US no architecture of security guarantees for Ukraine is possible. Ukrainian political scientists and analysts, for instance in overviews by the Ukrainian Institute of Politics, describe how the negotiation track on ending the war has narrowed to two key questions — territories and security guarantees — and stress that US Vice President J.D. Vance openly speaks of trying to "press both the Russians and the Ukrainians to sit them down at the table and strike a deal." This elicits a mixed reaction: on the one hand, Washington is seen as a necessary "guarantor" without whose participation no agreements would be worth the paper they are written on; on the other hand, it is viewed as a power eager to "close" the conflict on terms and a timeline acceptable to itself and its budget, especially against the backdrop of spending on the war with Iran.

The third intersecting storyline is American domestic politics, Trump's return to the White House and how this changes attitudes toward the US in Europe, Turkey and Ukraine. In France even travel agencies felt the signs of a new era. In a Le Figaro piece about a sharp cooling of French interest in trips to the US, despite objective branding reasons — the country's 250th anniversary, celebrations along Route 66 and the upcoming 2026 FIFA World Cup on American soil — IFOP survey data are cited: 46% of French people said that after Donald Trump's return to power they are "less inclined" to go to the US than before. Tour operators point to a combination of two factors: the "Trump effect," which has reinforced the image of America as politically polarized and potentially unsafe, and rising prices — for flights and accommodation — largely due to an energy crisis exacerbated by the Middle Eastern war. Thus, US foreign policy, sanctions and military campaigns become not abstract geopolitics but a very concrete reason why a French family revises its holiday plans.

France's political and intellectual scene is also actively discussing Trump's return. Leftists and Gaullists see in him an intensification of an "imperialist tilt" and a readiness for hard‑power scenarios from Iran to Ukraine. The aforementioned NPA piece emphasizes that the current escalation with Iran is a logical continuation of Trump's first term, when he wrecked the nuclear deal, strengthened sanctions and planted a mine under the future. Gaullist bloggers, for example the "Gaullistes de Sceaux" group, view American and Israeli strikes on Iranian infrastructure as a "violent imposition of a new order" in the region, where France risks being drawn in through its bases and commitments if the conflict spreads, for example to Cyprus. "A strike on Cyprus would inevitably pull in Greece, France and the UK," warns one such text, reminding readers that Washington's choices are far from neutral for Paris.

In Turkey, Trump long ago became a symbol of what is called "American arbitrariness." Turkish leftist publicists and part of the nationalist press see in him a "Hitler imitator" ready, for his ambitions and ideological project, to destroy international law and regional balances. In Umit Zileli's column the references to a "new Middle Ages" under US and Israeli rule sound not only as rhetoric but as a warning: every wave of American military activity in the region has historically been accompanied by increased pressure on Turkey — from the dismantling of Iraqi security architecture and the Kurdish issue to the transformation of Turkish armed forces under NATO diktat. Stories about how in past decades a significant portion of the spending on covert anti‑communist structures in Turkey was covered by the US are now woven into the narrative about the current conflict: an American war "over there" always means deep political change "here."

Ukraine, by contrast, sees in the figure of Trump above all the variability of American support. The Ukrainian press has detailed how, in the past, Congress accepted aid packages for Kyiv after seven months of delay under demands from Trump's wing to convert some grants to loans and reduce direct budget transfers. European Pravda explained that the law on aid to Ukraine passed through a complicated sieve of concessions to the Trumpist wing, including attempts to convert part of military support into credit, which at the time raised questions: "If almost the same content was adopted anyway, why was there a delay?" Against the background of the White House's current giant requests to fund the war with Iran, fears that Ukraine will once again become hostage to intra‑party games in Washington have only grown.

The fourth common motif is the perception of the US as a "firefighter‑arsonist": a power that simultaneously sets fires and tries to put them out, eroding trust in it both in the West and the East. In Russian‑ and Ukrainian‑language analytical materials about the US‑Israel war with Iran there are descriptions of how, in the very first days of the campaign, Washington struck at key Iranian energy facilities, including South Pars and Assaluyeh, and Iran responded with mass launches of missiles and drones at American bases in the Middle East and targets in Persian Gulf countries. Regional media note that Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain and Azerbaijan publicly condemned the Iranian strikes while reserving the right to respond, but Western and French sources also convey another line: many Gulf monarchies in recent weeks have refused the US full use of their bases and airspace for possible strikes on Iran, fearing being dragged into direct confrontation. The Francophone Wikipedia entry on "the strengthening of American military presence in the Middle East in 2026" notes that some Gulf states denied the US access to their infrastructure for airstrikes on Iran, citing fear of retaliatory attacks. This creates a paradoxical situation in which even traditional allies begin to distance themselves from American offensive operations, seeing them as a threat to their own stability.

In France skepticism toward strategic dependence on the US is growing. Leftists and some centrist analysts criticize Paris's involvement in the "American‑Israeli war" and warn that attachment to the American military machine automatically makes France a target for Iranian and proxy strikes and increases energy risks. Gaullist circles recall the Gaullist tradition of "strategic autonomy" and ask: isn't it time for Europe, and especially France as the future host of the G7‑2026 summit, to build an alternative security architecture in which the US would be an important partner but not the sole guarantor? At the same time, the French Foreign Ministry and economic departments are closely watching how the war accelerates the reshaping of energy flows: in a review of African news prepared by the French Finance Ministry, it is emphasized that the war in the Middle East and the partial blockade of the Strait of Hormuz have accelerated demand for Algerian gas, especially from Spain, the UK, the Netherlands and France, meaning Paris must balance support for the American line on Iran with a desire to diversify energy supplies, including by avoiding unstable routes.

Turkey views the current escalation as confirmation of a long‑held intuition: relying solely on the US as a security guarantor in the region is dangerous. Hence the rhetoric about a "treacherous Gladio" and the constant reminders of how in the past Turkish military leaders, such as General Nejip Tormutay, resigned rather than drag the country into American adventures — for example, in the first Iraq war. These historical reminiscences in Umit Zileli's column are used as a backdrop for criticism of the current "complete overhaul of the army" under the diktat of external forces and internal "liberal partners," who, according to the author, received "3–4 thousand dollars in envelopes" at closed meetings. In the eyes of a significant part of Turkish society the US remains a power that, through wars in the region, intelligence links and economic dependence, tries to shape Turkey's internal landscape.

Ukraine, on the other hand, cannot afford the luxury of such skepticism. For Kyiv the US remains an indispensable source of weapons, intelligence and diplomatic protection. Ukrainian politicians and experts are simultaneously grateful for the hundreds of billions of dollars already allocated in military and economic aid and worried by signs of fatigue in Congress and society. Ukrainian commentaries often make the point that aid is "no longer wanted unconditionally," and that every new initiative in Washington requires bargaining and concessions, up to changing the format — from grants to loans. Against this backdrop the war with Iran is seen as an additional risk: if the White House must ask for another $200 billion for the Middle Eastern front, will there be room in the budget for new packages for Ukraine? And if even now Vice President Vance speaks of the need to "pressure both sides" for a deal, won't the combination of the Iranian campaign and weariness with the Ukrainian war lead to Kyiv being the one pressed most strongly?

It is interesting that in all three countries there are nuanced angles of perceiving the US that are not always obvious in American media. In France this is a fear of a "Trumpified" America not only as a source of military risks but as a country where domestic polarization, racial conflicts and mass shootings turn even a tourist trip into a moral and psychological choice. In Turkey it is the understanding that American support for some regional players and sanctions against others inevitably increase instability and push Ankara toward a more complex game among Washington, Moscow, Tehran and Brussels. In Ukraine it is the realization of a duality: the US is both a "shield," without which the country would not survive, and a "director" who can stop funding, change the form of assistance or press for a political compromise perceived by part of the population as betrayal.

Against the backdrop of preparations for the G7‑2026 summit in France and talks about a new global security architecture, the world looking at Washington from Paris, Ankara and Kyiv sees not a monolithic superpower but a nervous, divided center of power. The US intervenes to manage wars and at the same time becomes hostage to them; it promises security guarantees but is increasingly forced to share that role with other centers — from the EU to regional powers. And it is precisely this duality — between necessity and danger of American power — that today shapes the tone of debates about the US in France, Turkey and Ukraine, making America the main but no longer an uncontested protagonist of other people’s news.

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Iran War and the Strait of Hormuz: How the World Argues with — and Depends on — America

Australia, Japan and Saudi Arabia today view the United States primarily through the lens of one issue: the US‑Israeli war against Iran and the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz. The US and Israeli strike on Iran on 28 February 2026, the killing of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and the near‑complete halt of tanker traffic through Hormuz — through which ordinarily about one‑fifth of the world’s oil passes — turned for these countries the abstract story of “American power” into an existential test of their own vulnerability and autonomy relative to Washington. In March, US President Donald Trump launched an air campaign to force Iran to reopen the strait and demanded that oil‑consuming countries “take on military responsibility” for Hormuz’s security, but Australia and Japan publicly refused, while in Saudi Arabia a more nuanced debate began: how to profit from high oil prices without becoming a tool of American escalation. (apnews.com)

Against this backdrop several overlapping themes are emerging in the three countries. First: how far can one go in supporting the US without becoming complicit in “someone else’s war”? Second: the fear of a “third oil shock” and stagflation, where the risk is attributed not only to Iran but also to the unpredictability of American policy. Third: a new perspective on the security of sea lanes — is it acceptable that freedom of navigation in Hormuz is effectively regulated by a superpower that has decided to “seize the strait”? Finally, a debate is developing in the Persian Gulf region over who and under what terms should internationalize the strait’s security — the US, a US‑led coalition, or a broader international framework involving the UN and littoral states.

In Australia, the US war with Iran became a litmus test for a long‑standing dispute over the nature of Australia’s partnership with Washington. At the government level the line remains traditionally allied, but with noticeable limits. Canberra condemned the Iranian attack on Al‑Minhad airbase hosting Australian forces and confirmed participation in US operations in the region, stressing that this is part of AUKUS obligations and shared efforts to deter Iran. However, when Trump called on “countries of the world that receive oil through Hormuz” to send military forces to secure the strait, Australia took a strictly limited stance: a government minister stated plainly on 16 March that Australia would not send ships into the strait. (en.wikipedia.org)

Domestically this crystallized into a heated debate about repeating “America’s endless wars.” In left‑wing and antiwar media, for example in Vince Hooper’s article “The Iran war is Australia’s margin call” in Independent Australia, the war is called “a stress test of Australian strategic policy on every front: alliance dependence, energy fragility, consular capability and commitment to international law.” The author notes that oil prices exceeded $100 per barrel and that “another US‑led war” could draw Australia into a long‑term spiral of conflicts profitable for the US defense industry but dangerous for the Australian economy and diaspora communities from the Middle East. (antinuclear.net)

To the left of the government line there are direct calls to sever some institutional ties to the US war machine. The socialist publication Solidarity in its March issue ran an editorial titled “Albanese joins Trump’s war in Iran — time to break US alliance,” equating Australia’s participation in the US campaign with the histories of Iraq and Afghanistan and proposing to “break dependence on the US and stop trading weapons.” Here the US role is seen not as a guarantor of order but as a systemic source of instability, pushing allies into conflicts that the public does not support and that the economy cannot sustain. (solidarity.net.au)

At the same time, business press and economists offer a more pragmatic line: the conflict inevitably hits the Australian dollar, inflation and markets, but breaking the alliance with the US over a one‑off crisis is risky. Financial analyses of the AUD/USD pair published on trading platforms link Trump’s decision to temporarily postpone strikes on Iranian energy infrastructure directly to an improvement in market “risk appetite” and stabilization of the Australian currency; investor briefs warn that upcoming business activity indices in Australia and the US will show how deeply the war has already penetrated the real economy. (mitrade.com)

In Japan’s debate, the United States is seen simultaneously as a guarantor of maritime security and a source of systemic risk. Unlike in Australia, where the dispute is primarily about political loyalty to the alliance, in Japan the focus shifts to constitutional constraints combined with energy dependence. In an emergency leaflet “革新のひろば” from the Japanese Communist Party demanding “an end to US and Israeli attacks on Iran,” American actions are described as an “imperialist war,” and readers are reminded of demonstrations in Washington under slogans “America, get out of Iran now” and “End imperialist wars.” Japanese authorities are urged to “raise a loud voice against the war” and to show solidarity with the global antiwar movement rather than automatically backing the US line. (jcp‑kanagawa.jp)

But while the communists’ stance is simple — the US is the main aggressor — mainstream analysis is more nuanced. Political scientist Satoru Ikeuchi in an article for 公研 describes the current war as a continuation of the trend in which US military infrastructure in GCC countries (Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar) has become “a forward base for Israel’s defense.” He writes that “for countries like Japan, which heavily depend on stable extraction and supplies of oil and gas from the Persian Gulf, the actions of Israel and the US under its influence have become a huge, concretely manifested risk.” In other words, the risk is seen not only in Iran but also in Washington’s willingness to radicalize military actions without regard for the long‑term interests of importing countries. (koken-publication.com)

Economists and business consultants spell out this fear in terms familiar to Japan: the formula of a “third oil shock.” In a long analysis titled “2026 US‑Iran Conflict and the Course of the Japanese Economy: The Crisis of Stagflation Brought by a Third Oil Shock,” the authors directly link the US‑Iran war to a threat of stagflation: rising energy prices, falling real household incomes, and worsening conditions for energy‑intensive industries. An important nuance: in this logic the US are not merely “protecting world trade” but provoking a chain of events that lead to structural problems in Japan’s economy. (human-trust.co.jp)

Legal and constitutional commentary raises another dimension — whether and how Japan can or should follow the United States into such operations. In an analytical column on the platform note, “US Attacks on Iran and Japan’s Constitution Article 9, Collective Self‑Defense, Emergency Clauses and International Humanitarian Law,” lawyer Takumi Inoue examines how the February US strike on Iran shook interpretations of Article 9 of the Constitution. He recalls that Prime Minister Takaiti on 2 March condemned Iran’s nuclear program but “expressed neither explicit support nor criticism” of US military actions, and asks whether Japan can participate in collective self‑defense in such a controversial war without clear UN Security Council backing, without undermining international humanitarian law. Here the US functions as a test of the limits of Japan’s “normalization” of defense policy. (note.com)

An important strand of Japanese discussion is tied not only to military but also to US climate and energy policy. Even before the current war, Japanese research centers scrutinized the second Trump administration’s steps to exit climate agreements and roll back environmental regulations, warning that this sharply reduces America’s international influence and strengthens the EU and China in the global climate architecture. In a January JETRO review it was noted that a unilateral US withdrawal from the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change is technically contentious and could shift influence toward actors who continue to push the decarbonization agenda. Against the backdrop of the Iran war this reads as a double threat: the US both destabilizes fossil fuel supplies and distances itself from coordination on the green transition on which Japanese companies depend. (jetro.go.jp)

Reactions in Saudi Arabia to the US over the Iran war and the Hormuz crisis are the most complex and cannot easily be boiled down to a simple “for” or “against America.” On one hand, the kingdom has historically relied on American security guarantees and is highly vulnerable to any disruption in Hormuz shipping. On the other, Vision 2030 and diversification efforts push the elites toward greater maneuverability and caution about becoming the frontline of another US campaign.

A characteristic example is a recent article in the Saudi newspaper Al‑Riyadh, which describes Iranian threats to close the strait as a reason to “internationalize” the Hormuz issue. The author notes that Trump’s statements were accompanied by harsh threats toward Iran and calls for “the international community, especially countries dependent on Persian Gulf energy resources,” to participate in securing navigation. The piece emphasizes, however, that Saudi Arabia is one of the largest and most reliable suppliers of “safe and stable energy sources with guaranteed deliveries and acceptable prices,” and that the international community should build solutions not on unilateral US steps but on coordinated initiatives with the Gulf’s coastal states. (a5.alriyadh.com)

In the kingdom’s energy and economic circles the US is more often seen as one actor within a broader architecture of competing centers of power. Analysts at the KAPSARC research center, analyzing the US‑China confrontation in tariffs and LNG trade, pointed out that the growth of China’s long‑term contracts to import US LNG in 2026–2030 simultaneously increases Beijing‑Washington interdependence and creates for exporters like Saudi Arabia a need to more actively consolidate their positions as reliable suppliers to Asia. In this picture the US is not only a military actor but also an economic rival that can use energy as a tool of pressure. (kapsarc.org)

It is also interesting how Saudi Arabic‑speaking online communities discuss the American economy and the balance of power. In discussions on the forum r/SaudiForSaudis in the context of lists of the world’s largest economies, the figure of nearly $32 trillion US GDP regularly appears, but users emphasize that real comparisons must account for purchasing power parity and standards of living; a recurring sentiment is that the West led by America overestimates its own economic might while ignoring the rise of India, China and the Global South. This is not direct criticism of Washington, but a shift in perception: the United States is no longer the unambiguous “center” but one pole among others. (reddit.com)

A unifying theme for Australia, Japan and Saudi Arabia is the sense that American foreign policy has entered a phase of “rupture” with the previous order. This was noted beyond the countries discussed here: in Mark Carney’s 2026 World Economic Forum address, the confrontational trade policy and territorial ambitions of the US were described as causes of a “rupture” in the global system, forcing middle powers and small states to seek new coalitions to protect their interests. (en.wikipedia.org) This motive is now being localized in domestic debates:

• In Australia — through the question of whether the alliance is worth the cost of participating in wars “of Washington’s choosing,” exposing energy security and diaspora communities to risk;
• In Japan — through fear that the “American factor” simultaneously undermines energy stability, intensifies climate rifts and pushes Tokyo toward risky steps that dilute its pacifist constitution;
• In Saudi Arabia — through attempts to turn the world market’s dependence on its oil into an argument for a more multilateral, rather than “US‑monopolized,” security architecture in the Persian Gulf.

Readiness to openly challenge the US also varies. Australian leftists and a portion of the public already openly speak of the need to “break the alliance” and define red lines for participation in American wars. In Japan criticism is more often coded in constitutional and economic debates, where Washington appears as an external parameter rather than the target of frontal attack. In Saudi Arabia the rhetoric of the official press remains carefully calibrated: criticism is directed at Iran and abstract “threats to navigation,” and the US is mentioned as the initiator of harsh statements but not as an actor whose interests can be directly contested; skepticism and irony are expressed in closed discussions and online forums.

Against this background, Western readers who follow only American media often see a simplified picture: either “allies back Washington,” or “China and Russia oppose.” The real voices from Australia, Japan and Saudi Arabia are far more complex. They simultaneously acknowledge that the US will remain indispensable in the foreseeable future and speak more loudly about the cost of that dependence. The question repeated in various formulations in Canberra, Tokyo and Riyadh is the same: how long can one remain in a system where American domestic politics and the will of a single president can, in a few weeks, reconfigure the planet’s energy flows, test allies’ constitutions and again push the world to the brink of a major regional conflict. There is no answer yet, but the very posing of the question shows how much attitudes toward the United States have transformed: from the unchallenged core of the world order to a powerful but increasingly unpredictable partner one must live with while constantly calculating exit routes.

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How the World Argues with America: Saudi Arabia, Israel and Brazil amid a New Wave of U.S....

At the beginning of 2026, the United States again found itself at the epicenter of a global discussion—not an abstract one, but a very concrete debate: about war, sanctions, unilateral actions and the transformation of the U.S. into a “revisionist autocratic power.” Saudi, Israeli and Brazilian discussions about Washington now revolve around several tightly intertwined themes: a large-scale escalation of American military presence in the Middle East and the war with Iran that began, the conversion of military force into an instrument of Donald Trump’s domestic politics, harsh economic and sanctions pressure on second-tier countries like Brazil, and an ideological dispute: are the U.S. still a liberal democracy or are they already behaving like an authoritarian hegemony. At the same time, in each country these same events are read through local fears and hopes.

The central nerve of all discussions has become the war with Iran, which began after a joint U.S.–Israeli strike on Iranian targets on 28 February 2026. In the Israeli and Middle Eastern context it is perceived not as an isolated campaign but as the culmination of years of escalating pressure, including the largest concentration of American forces in the region since 2003, starting in late January 2026.(pt.wikipedia.org) In the Saudi and broader Arab press this pivot is described primarily in the language of balance of power in the Gulf: the U.S. is returning as a heavy military pillar, at once a guarantee and a risk. For Saudi authors it is important that American dominance in the Persian Gulf is not only protection from Iran but also a factor of control over oil prices and supply corridors, and therefore over the budgets of the Gulf monarchies themselves. In a number of Arab commentaries the American strikes on Iran are presented as a continuation of the “maximum pressure” logic that began with the U.S. withdrawal from the nuclear deal and the sanctions campaign against Tehran: Washington is once again dictating, by force, not only the nuclear but also the energy agenda of the region, pushing Riyadh to make the painful choice between price coordination with Russia and China and a strategic alignment with the U.S.

The Israeli conversation about the same war is much less shy about the language of force. In the local expert discourse the war is presented as an inevitable stage of a long-term “war between wars” against Iranian infrastructure, only now scaled up with the support of American power. Israeli think tanks describe the U.S.–Israeli alliance as the main resource for deterring Iran and its allies; one recent publication in Hebrew directly states that “American dominance in the Gulf region has opened up an unprecedented strategic window for the Israeli right-wing establishment.”(maki.org.il) Here the U.S. acts not as an external force but as a continuation of Israeli strategy—from strikes on Iranian oil and military facilities to rethinking the security architecture of the region. Thus, even former Prime Minister Yair Lapid in public statements supports the destruction of critical Iranian energy infrastructure as a way to “paralyze Iran’s economy and collapse the regime,” illustrating a rare consensus in Israel on the usefulness of a hard American line.(pt.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop the Brazilian perspective sounds sharply dissonant. In Brazil’s public debate the war with Iran fits into a broader narrative of the U.S. as a power that wages wars “there” but forces others to pay the price “here”—through sanctions, trade wars, pressure on financial and tech chains. Since early 2025 Brazil–U.S. relations have been in a prolonged crisis phase: unilateral U.S. measures—from visa restrictions and application of the “Magnitsky Act” to Brazilian officials to 50% tariffs on certain goods—are perceived as open political and economic intervention and “interference in the country’s internal sovereignty.”(pt.wikipedia.org) In the eyes of many Brazilian commentators the current war in the Middle East is just an extension of these methods in a kinetic dimension: if the U.S. is ready to bomb Iran unilaterally, it is all the more ready to pressure Brazil through the financial system and the dollar.

That is why part of the Brazilian public conversation about America now unfolds not around the Persian Gulf, but around the U.S. domestic agenda under Trump‑2. Widely circulated analyses in Portuguese describe the transformation of the U.S. into a “revisionist autocratic hegemony,” emphasizing how the domestic drift toward authoritarianism is reflected in foreign policy: from an invasion of Venezuela and the abduction of Nicolás Maduro to renewed territorial claims, including revived talk about Greenland, and the erosion of trust in American leadership within NATO.(debugliesintel.com) For Brazilian left and centrist analysts this is not just an ideological portrait of Trump: it is a warning that a country straying from democratic norms becomes far more dangerous precisely as an economic and military partner.

From this logic also grows the nervous reaction to American economic pressure. The topic of sanctions and threats aimed at the Brazilian economy has occupied a distinct niche in local media and social networks: the U.S., with its tradition of financial sanctions and extraterritorial application of laws, is presented as a direct threat to the banking sector and innovation. Commentators on popular Brazilian platforms discuss the risk that “Trump’s United States is ready to destroy Brazil’s financial system,” including attacks on the national payment system PIX, which has become a symbol of the country’s digital sovereignty. In these discussions the U.S. appears as a power that “likes to impose sanctions that hit other countries’ economies” and uses wars and crises as pretexts to impose its own financial rules.(reddit.com)

At the same time, within Brazil’s intellectual circles there are cooler, structural assessments: here the U.S. is still seen as one of the key poles of the global technological and industrial configuration. In debates about the “semiconductor war” Brazilian authors recall that in the 1970s Brazil, Singapore and Taiwan started from comparable levels of microelectronics development, and today it is precisely the U.S. and its Asian partners (including Taiwan and South Korea) who set the rules of the game, leaving Brazil on the periphery. In this picture America is not only a power in force but also a technological hegemon, whose decisions determine Brazil’s chances of fitting into the new technological order.(reddit.com)

In Israeli discourse, by contrast, American internal transformations are discussed primarily through the prism of the fate of the American–Israeli alliance. Annual reviews of the condition of the Jewish people and the strategic environment stress that, despite turbulent American politics and waves of criticism inside the U.S., the foundation of the partnership has not only not crumbled but has strengthened in recent years—closer military coordination, joint operations against Iran, and attempts to expand the format of regional agreements with Arab states mediated by Washington. Authors of such reviews argue against obituaries for the alliance, insisting that talk of an “irreversible break” between Israel and America was exaggerated, and that events of 2024–2026 demonstrate, rather, an accelerated institutionalization of Israel’s dependence on American security assistance.(jppi.org.il)

Out of this comes an important Israeli thesis, practically absent in Brazilian or Saudi press: for Israel the problem is not that the U.S. is becoming a more aggressive power, but whether that aggressiveness can be channeled into long-term containment of Iran and its allies. The logic here is extremely instrumental: even an increase in authoritarian traits in American politics is not seen as a principal threat if it ensures greater predictability and toughness in support of Israel’s military doctrine. Against this background, American initiatives like expanding missile defense in the Western Hemisphere (“Shield of the Americas”) are interpreted in Israeli circles as an example of how Washington seeks to institutionalize its security role not only in the Middle East but also in other regions, effectively creating infrastructure of global military dependence.(pt.wikipedia.org)

For Saudi and other Gulf commentators this same vector looks ambivalent. On one hand, the bolstered American presence—the largest since Iraq in 2003—is perceived as a shield against Iranian attacks and as a signal that the U.S. is prepared to once again play the role of guarantor of the regional status quo.(pt.wikipedia.org) On the other hand, it generates anxiety: how reliable is a partner who is at the same time playing an increasingly risky game in other regions and in its domestic politics? Saudi technocratic experts emphasize the risks of excessive dependence on a single security architecture: if entanglement with American military and financial infrastructure becomes total, Riyadh’s room for maneuver between Washington, Beijing and Moscow will shrink to a minimum. This explains the Kingdom’s persistent desire to build parallel energy and investment ties with China and Russia, without breaking the traditional U.S. military-political umbrella.

It is especially telling how the triad “U.S. — democracy — power” is read differently in each country. In Israel even texts critical of American domestic segregation or polarization typically measure risks through the prism of potential weakening of support for Israel. This is a very pragmatic view: the ideological qualities of the American political system matter insofar as they affect the amount of military and diplomatic assistance. In Brazil, however, the ideological anxiety comes to the fore: if a country that claims to be a global lecturer on human rights and institutions demonstratively drifts towards autocracy, it devalues its moral claims and gives ammunition to those who propose building alternative blocs outside a dollar-centric world.(debugliesintel.com)

The Brazilian debate acquires special sharpness because of the fresh memory of the country’s own political turbulence and a disrupted “democratic continuity.” Comparisons between Trump and Bolsonaro, discussions of American hearings about the state of Brazilian free speech and actions of the Supreme Court—all this shapes an image of the U.S. not only as an external hegemon but also as a mirror in which Brazil sees its own temptations toward authoritarianism and politicization of justice. In the eyes of many public intellectuals Washington, criticizing Brazil for rights violations, looks hypocritical when it itself demonstrates tendencies toward politicization of federal security structures and interference in foreign elections.(reddit.com)

In the Middle East, including in Saudi analytical circles, the debate about the nature of American democracy is secondary. Far more important is the question: can Washington maintain predictability in providing regional security if its domestic politics are so turbulent? For many technocrats in Riyadh the lesson of the past twenty years is simple: changes of administrations in the U.S. lead to sharp turns in foreign policy—from Iraq to Iran, from Obama to Trump, from the nuclear deal to sanctions and back to war. This makes reliance on the U.S. less dependable than it seemed in the era of the “unipolar moment,” and pushes toward diversification of partners, even if military dependence on the U.S. so far remains.

The result is a strikingly contradictory picture. For Israel the United States is still the main source of security and a guarantor of existence in a hostile environment; Washington’s aggressiveness and unilateralism are generally perceived as a resource to be steered and amplified where possible. For Saudi Arabia and other Gulf monarchies the U.S. is a necessary but increasingly risky shield, requiring compensatory outreach in other directions. For Brazil, America today is primarily a source of economic and political pressure—from sanctions and tariffs to threats to financial sovereignty—and at the same time an example of how liberal democracy can drift toward autocracy, eroding its own moral capital.

One thing unites these three different views: in Riyadh, Jerusalem and Brasília the U.S. is no longer perceived as a neutral “world arbiter” standing above the fray. Everywhere the U.S. is seen as a state with its own hard interests, increasingly using military and financial power to advance them. The difference is whether that power is seen as protection, threat or an opportunity for maneuver. And it is precisely this differing perspective that today determines how countries of the global South and regional powers are rethinking their place in a world where America remains indispensable—and increasingly problematic—superpower.

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How the Global South Sees America in the New War: Iran, Hormuz and the "Shield" for the...

At the end of February 2026, the United States once again found itself at the center of a global debate beyond the West. Joint US and Israeli strikes on Iran on February 28, Tehran’s subsequent closure of the Strait of Hormuz, and Washington’s retaliatory campaign turned a regional escalation into a global test of confidence in American leadership. In Brazil, Saudi Arabia and South Africa these events are not seen as distant headlines about a “Middle Eastern crisis”: they are discussed through the lens of oil, sovereignty, US past wars, and these countries’ own ambitions.

In Brazil the new war has prompted both analysis of the global security architecture and discussion of how the US treats democracy at home and its partners in the hemisphere. In Saudi Arabia the US is spoken of simultaneously as an indispensable military umbrella and as an actor that, by increasing pressure on Iran, is effectively reshaping the energy market and affecting the kingdom’s revenues. In South Africa, where the debate is quieter and often confined to international pages, the events are viewed through the traditional anti-war Global South perspective: another “war of choice” by Washington and its allies, and another blow to international law.

The main focus of discussions has not been the abstract “America,” but a specific bundle: the US–Israel war with Iran, the campaign in the Strait of Hormuz, and Washington’s broader strategy regarding oil and global maritime communications. In Brazil this is compounded by the new “Shield of the Americas” initiative and the creation of a US special envoy post for that line, as well as the memory of the 2025 diplomatic scandal when US sanctions and visa measures against Brazilian figures were seen as interference in the country’s internal affairs. (pt.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop a number of common themes emerge in the three countries: the US as both military guarantor and source of instability; anxiety mixed with pragmatic calculation about oil and sea lanes; criticism of Washington’s double standards on international law and democracy; and, finally, a desire to use American actions in pursuit of their own regional strategies.

The sharpest issue has been the war with Iran. Brazilian analysts note that in late January the US carried out the largest buildup of military presence in the Middle East since 2003, long before the first strike on Iran, which is perceived as preparation for a preselected escalation. In one dossier from Brazil’s “US Observatory” it is emphasized that the American concentration of forces — from carrier strike groups and missile defense to logistics in Qatar, Bahrain and Saudi Arabia — became the “structural backdrop” of the war, not a reaction to a single incident. (pt.wikipedia.org) The authors link this to a longer trend: the Trump administration’s desire to make pressure on Iran a cornerstone of its foreign policy.

The tone of the Brazilian discussion is noticeably critical. Analytical pieces on the “War with Iran in 2026” compare the US and Israeli decision to strike Iranian territory to the 2003 invasion of Iraq and call it a “war of choice,” risky for the entire global energy market. (pt.wikipedia.org) On Brazilian left platforms the analogy is sharpened: Washington is again pushing the logic of a preventive war rather than defense, and again expecting allies to “fall into line” — this time under the new “Shield of the Americas” initiative, which has attracted many comments in Brazil. The creation of a US Special Envoy for the “Shield of the Americas” in early March 2026 is seen as an attempt to institutionalize Washington’s role in securing the hemisphere — including sea routes and critical infrastructure — against the backdrop of global war and risks to oil supplies. (pt.wikipedia.org)

Brazilian commentators draw a direct parallel with the 2025 crisis, when unilateral US actions against Brazilian officials and programs — from visa sanctions to use of the “Magnitsky Act” — were perceived as interference in internal affairs. Articles recall that Washington then combined rhetoric about “protecting democracy” with concrete economic and political levers against Brazil, not only against traditional adversaries. This gives the current discussion of the “Shield of the Americas” a double meaning: some experts view it as protection from external threats, others as an instrument for disciplining South American partners under the pretext of security. (pt.wikipedia.org)

The Saudi discussion of the US and the war with Iran is much more existential: the war is unfolding literally “over the kingdom’s head” and that of its neighbors. Saudi press in recent weeks has been full of pieces on the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, burned tankers, the suspension of insurance coverage for routes through the combat zone, and a sharp rise in risk premiums. Business outlets examine in detail how US and Israeli strikes, and then Iran’s response, led to an effective blockade of part of shipping and raids on energy infrastructure in the region. (aajeg.com)

At the level of official and expert circles the tone toward the US is ambivalent. On one hand, American strikes are described as “necessary to ensure the security of Gulf allies,” and it is emphasized that without US power the deterrence of Iran and the reopening of Hormuz would be impossible. This is written, for example, in regional analyses describing a “joint Saudi‑Turkish vision” and ties with Washington: the US is still seen as the main provider of guarantees for trade and energy flows, despite Riyadh’s desire to diversify partners. (asamcenter.com)

On the other hand, public debate, including on Saudi forums, reveals distrust of US motives. Commentators openly say that “the US does not start wars without knowing the outcome in advance,” and suspect that a protracted crisis around Hormuz benefits Washington by redistributing shares in the oil market and weakening extraction competitors. One popular post argues that by complicating exports through Hormuz, the US simultaneously opens space to expand its own deliveries and strengthens its negotiating position on sanctions against third countries. (reddit.com) In another discussion a user writes bluntly that the “first beneficiary” of the current crisis is America, recalling how sanctions against Venezuela were recently eased for its oil — and now, given the Hormuz threat, that decision looks retrospectively like deliberate preparation for the present moment. (reddit.com)

Attempts by the Trump administration to deflect responsibility for particular tragic episodes of the war provoke special irritation. A clip from a press conference went viral on a Saudi forum in which a journalist asks Trump about a Tomahawk missile that hit a school early in the war. The president replies that “many countries possess such missiles” and that “an investigation is underway.” Users immediately note that only a few US allies have Tomahawks in their inventories, and among the parties to the war only the United States does. One commenter sarcastically notes that by Trump’s logic “maybe it was the Japanese who shelled the girls’ school, let’s wait for the investigation.” The irony masks deep doubt about the US willingness to admit its mistakes and uphold the same standards it demands of others. (reddit.com)

On this background criticism of US double standards on human rights and international law is growing in Brazil as well. In a recent issue of an analytical series from a Brazilian US research center, the authors examine “democratic representation” within the United States itself: the Electoral College, distortions in the Senate, the role of money in politics. They note that a state with such serious internal disproportions continues to demand strict standards of “democratic quality” from partners and to use sanctions against elites of other countries. In the context of the war with Iran this is presented as an example of Washington acting simultaneously as judge and participant in the conflict — both in the normative arena and on the field of force. (opeu.org.br)

The energy dimension of US policy is the one aspect on which all three countries agree about its importance, though they differ in assessments. For Saudi Arabia the issue is direct: the war around Hormuz hits traditional export routes, but at the same time pushes the kingdom to activate alternative infrastructure. Saudi discussions recall the strategic decision of the early 1980s — the construction of the East‑West pipeline (Petroline) from eastern fields to the Red Sea — and present it as a foresighted move that today allows re‑routing flows around Hormuz. Commenters write that if the strait remains blocked, the kingdom’s revenues could even grow by roughly 50% if it can leverage the infrastructure and price conditions. This, however, is presented not as a joyful scenario but as an example of how the kingdom’s “long strategy” helps it weather shocks imposed by a US‑driven conflict. (reddit.com)

The Brazilian perspective is different: the country sees itself as a distant but price‑and‑import‑dependent observer. In Brazilian business pages Hormuz appears not only as a point of risk but as an example of how dangerous “militarized US control over communications” can be when a war in one region hits inflation and exchange rates in South America. Analysts recall that Brazil’s economy has already experienced waves of price shocks caused by decisions made in Washington and the Middle East without regard for the interests of the Global South. Against this background the idea of the “Shield of the Americas” is often criticized in Brazilian commentary: instead of a real joint energy strategy that includes Latin America, the US offers a military “umbrella” architecture in which priority remains with its own supply lines and investor security, not protection against price shocks for Brazil or Argentina. (pt.wikipedia.org)

The South African perspective is more detached but no less principled. In South Africa’s international pages the US campaign in Hormuz and strikes on Iranian sites are described with an emphasis on precedent: striking a country that has not officially attacked US territory in the name of protecting “freedom of navigation,” while the strikes themselves cause escalation, strait closures and heightened risks for shipping. South African columnists recall Iraq and Libya: there too it was said that “surgical operations for stability” would follow, but they ended in long‑term instability and erosion of international law. From Pretoria’s standpoint the current war undermines what little trust remains that the US acts within shared rules rather than making them up as it goes.

In that debate, memory of South Africa’s own experience of sanctions, apartheid and the struggle for recognition of the majority’s rights plays an important role. Against that background Washington’s rhetoric about human rights and democracy sounds in South Africa not only as a declaration but as an object of critical analysis: why do some violations of international law prompt immediate strikes and campaigns, while others — for example, those involving US allies — are treated with soft phrasing and behind‑the‑scenes diplomacy?

New statements by Trump about the role of other states in securing sea lanes also draw particular interest in Global South countries. His call for “countries that receive oil through Hormuz to look after its protection themselves” is interpreted ambiguously. In Saudi Arabia and the Middle East it looks like a signal: Washington is tired of being the “policeman” of the strait and wants greater involvement by others — while not relinquishing control over escalation. In Brazilian columns it is compared to long‑standing US pressure on NATO allies in Europe: Washington asks for more contribution from partners while remaining the chief strategist of the conflict. For South African authors such calls appear as an invitation to militarize regional policy in US interests: Global South countries are nudged to participate in securing regimes that benefit Washington, under threat of economic losses. (aljoumhouria.com)

Against this background differences in how each society sees its own maneuver become especially noticeable. Saudi Arabia, judging by internal discussions, perceives itself as a major player that must minimize destruction and make the most of wartime opportunities: from rerouting export flows to strengthening its status as an indispensable supplier for West and East alike. The US remains the key military partner, but assessments increasingly include the sentiment: “It benefits America, but we are not obliged to pay the full cost of its strategy.”

Brazil, by contrast, seeks to distance itself from direct involvement. The 2025 crisis, when Washington used sanctions and visa levers against Brazilian judges and politicians, reinforced among the elite the sense that too close a tie to the US endangers sovereignty. In commentary on the war with Iran and the “Shield of the Americas,” Brazilian commentators increasingly repeat the idea that the country must preserve maneuverability within BRICS, develop ties with China and Europe, and not let hemisphere security become a project determined solely in Washington. (pt.wikipedia.org)

South Africa, finally, continues the Global South’s critical tradition: its experts warn that normalizing preventive wars and unilateral US military campaigns undermines the universality of international law, on which South Africa itself relies in its claims against rich countries on trade, climate and inequality. For Pretoria and its intellectuals watching the US war with Iran means seeing rules the Global South needs to protect its interests being eroded by a superpower’s actions.

It is precisely in this gap between declarations and practice, between military power and political trust, that attitudes toward the US are being formed today in Brazil, Saudi Arabia and South Africa. They still acknowledge that many crises cannot be resolved without American power, and that the US remains a critical node in the global economy and security. But they are increasingly unwilling to believe that Washington uses that power for shared rules rather than for its own tactical gains. The war with Iran, the campaign in Hormuz, and new projects like the “Shield of the Americas” only deepen this skepticism — and push Global South countries to seek ways to protect their interests in a world where the United States remains a center of power, but ever less often a center of trust.

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"America on Fire": How South Africa, France and Saudi Arabia Debate the US War with Iran and the...

At the end of March 2026, the image of the United States abroad is being shaped again not by its economy or culture, but by war. The central theme of nearly all discussions in South Africa, France and Saudi Arabia is the large-scale American military campaign against Iran and the related escalation in the Middle East, which many regional analysts are already calling the start of a "long low-intensity world war." Against this background, old fears about American expansionism, unilateral interventions in Latin America and the growing rift between Washington and the Global South are revived.

At the same time, tone and emphasis differ sharply. In French expert circles there is discussion of the return of "Trumpist" unilateral expansionism and its consequences for Europe.(courrierdesameriques.com) In the Saudi and broader Arab information space the focus is on how a US and Israeli war against Iran undermines regional security and is forcing the Gulf monarchies to reassess their relations with Washington.(reddit.com) South African authors, continuing a long tradition of criticizing the "global sheriff," see in the events confirmation that American foreign policy remains at odds with international law norms and the interests of the Global South.(mg.co.za)

All this is unfolding against the backdrop of open military actions: from January to March 2026 the US and Israel have been conducting a series of operations against Iran — from massive airstrikes on nuclear and military infrastructure to strikes on Kurdish areas inside Iran and increases in US forces in the region.(fr.wikipedia.org) In these three countries four major lines of interpretation have emerged: "war and international law," "security and the hypocrisy of alliances," "American expansionism from Latin America to the Middle East," and "the fracturing of US hegemony and the start of a more chaotic world."

First, the US war with Iran is almost everywhere considered through the prism of legitimacy. French and South African commentary emphasizes that, unlike classic self-defence scenarios, Washington is acting preventively and without a clear UN Security Council mandate, drawing parallels with Iraq in 2003 and heightening distrust of American references to international law. French lawyers and political scientists analyzing the legal aspects of US and Israeli strikes on Iran point out bluntly that the 2026 operations are hard to fit within Article 51 of the UN Charter on self-defence, because the parties were not subject to an immediate armed attack, and the concept of preventive strikes has not yet been recognized by international law.(fr.wikipedia.org)

This theme resonates strikingly with the South African tradition. Earlier Mail & Guardian pieces discussed how the US is "departing from its own promises" to countries of the South, including on climate and development, and how its use of force from Iraq to Afghanistan discredits appeals to "the rules."(mg.co.za) South African commentators now project this critique onto Iran, stressing that in the 2026 war Washington again demonstrates that "rules matter when they suit the US, and are easily ignored when regime change in 'problematic' states is at stake." In South African discourse the war in Iran is linked both to the Palestinian experience and to long-standing distrust of NATO: the American strike on Tehran is seen as another example of the West using force against countries outside its bloc, invoking abstract "security" while ignoring its obligations when people in Gaza or Africa suffer.

The Saudi and broader Gulf voice is different but equally critical. In popular Saudi discussions about the current strikes on Iran and the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz a characteristic formulation appears: "The US is not the world's policeman but a great power stuck in a war of attrition, without broad international cover, like in Iraq." This is how the present American campaign against Iran is described in one discussion among Middle Eastern users analyzing reports from the Financial Times and other media that Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Kuwait and Qatar are reassessing multibillion-dollar investments in the US and considering invoking force majeure to suspend contracts due to increasing military risks.(reddit.com)

For Saudi discourse, the key question becomes: who is protecting whom? According to sources cited in Middle Eastern commentary, the Gulf states are watching with concern as Washington redeploys missile defense systems — THAAD and Patriot — from the Gulf toward Israel, leaving infrastructure and bases in the Gulf more vulnerable to Iranian retaliatory strikes.(reddit.com) In Saudi eyes this looks like a reversed logic of alliance: instead of the US guaranteeing the security of the Gulf monarchies, local armies are expected to cover American interests and facilities.

From this grows sharp scepticism: if Washington cannot or will not protect its traditional partners, why follow its agenda blindly? In one popular Saudi discussion about the nature of modern wars, the experiences of Ukraine and the current US war against Iran are described as examples of an "era of cheap wars," in which drones and relatively inexpensive ballistic missiles exhaust complex and costly air defense systems. The author concludes: "From observing wars in which the US participates, one can say that America will not go to war whose outcome it does not know in advance."(reddit.com) This statement simultaneously acknowledges US military power and questions the rationality of the current escalation with Iran, where the outcome is far from predetermined.

In France the second major line of discussion is the return of "American expansionism" in its almost classical form, but now under a new balance of forces. French research centers and foreign policy journals analyze not only the Middle East but also US actions in Latin America. A January study from the Centre for International Studies at Sciences Po examines in detail Operation Absolute Resolve, launched in January 2026: US troops land on Venezuelan territory with the aim of arresting its president and dismantling the ruling regime, which the authors directly compare with the "dark pages" of previous Washington policy in the region.(sciencespo.fr)

For a French audience such operations fit the narrative of "Trumpist" expansionism, contours of which first emerged during Donald Trump's initial presidential term and have now been reinvigorated. In a francophone review of the current US administration's foreign policy strategy it is emphasized that Washington increasingly speaks the language of "primacy of nations" and distrust of "transnational organizations." It is in this key that the hard line of the White House toward the European Union is explained, with the EU described in the analytic text as "an organized supranational challenge to sovereignty."(courrierdesameriques.com)

A French diplomat and US expert notes in his column that "current American policy harms not so much Russia or China as the very idea of Western unity." The logic of Washington, in his view, is this: first restore US "coercive authority" through successful operations in Iran and Latin America, then talk to allies from a position of strength. However, in France there is a growing understanding that in such a scenario Europe becomes not a partner but a theater — an object of pressure. One analytic article specifically notes that at the Munich Security Conference in February 2026 Vice President J.D. Vance presented a program in which Europeans were urged to "take responsibility for their own security," which in France was read as a veiled invitation to prepare for a reduction of American guarantees under NATO.(courrierdesameriques.com)

Against this backdrop, US reactivation in military and quasi-military spheres of the Western Hemisphere is particularly sharply perceived: from the "Bouclier des Amériques" project — a multilateral Washington initiative to fight drug cartels and related networks, where the US explicitly promises partners military support for strikes against cartels' infrastructure, to pressure on Colombia across migration, economic and diplomatic tracks.(fr.wikipedia.org) In French discourse this is seen as a revival of a Monroe-esque approach: the US seeks to cement a veto and the right to use force across the Western Hemisphere while simultaneously demanding Europe's unconditional loyalty on eastern and southern fronts.

The third common theme across the three countries is the feeling that the world system is entering a phase of "war diffusion." In the Arab intellectual sphere, widely read in Saudi Arabia, a recent conversation with American economist Jeffrey Sachs has become an important reference; in an interview in early March 2026 he claimed the world has entered the "first days of World War III." He simultaneously describes the burning theaters — from Iran to Ukraine and from the Western Hemisphere to the Arabian Sea — and stresses that by his index of commitment to multilateralism the US remains among the least committed to the UN of all 193 member states.(reddit.com)

For Saudi and other Middle Eastern authors this assessment is useful because it comes not from a "traditional" anti-American critic but from a well-known Western economist. In Arab texts it is used as an argument: if even a Western professor speaks of the start of a world war and of the US systematically undermining the UN, it confirms long-standing regional grievances against Washington. The idea is repeated that the United States "has shifted from the role of guarantor of order to a factor of chaos."

In South Africa, with its experience of fighting apartheid and long-standing criticism of unilateral interventions, the US war with Iran fits into a broader picture: the Global South, local commentators argue, continues to pay for the games of great powers, but unlike during the Cold War it now has more tools for resistance — from BRICS to alternative financial and diplomatic platforms. A number of South African voices link US operations in Iran and Venezuela to Washington's efforts to limit the influence of China and Russia, but stress that such steps accelerate Africa's and Latin America's distancing from the Western camp.(mg.co.za)

In France a similar diagnosis is expressed in more academic language. In a recent issue of Politique étrangère, French authors argue that the current 47th US president proposes an economic and foreign policy program in which national interests are understood extremely narrowly, and the principles of multilateralism and "liberal internationalism" almost dissolve.(ifri.org) For French analysts it is unclear how Europe should react: on the one hand it still depends on the US for defense; on the other hand its elites are increasingly skeptical about the stability and predictability of American strategy.

The perception of the US war with Iran in Saudi Arabia has a particular dimension as a threat to regional balance. Arab discussions closely track the consequences of the IRGC's blockade of the Strait of Hormuz — a spike in oil prices, the risk of $100 per barrel "within hours," and growing concern among Gulf countries that their exports and critical infrastructure are becoming targets of retaliatory strikes.(reddit.com) Against this background local commentators voice what until recently was mainly said by Iranian or Turkish analysts: that a war started to demonstrate US strength could ultimately weaken American influence in the region if the Gulf monarchies feel instrumentalized and unprotected.

A notable nuance in the Saudi discussion is a sober view of the military balance. Popular discussions acknowledge that the technological superiority of the US and Israel is "frighteningly large," but conclude that precisely this superiority makes a full-scale direct war with Iran too risky for Washington: cheap rockets and drones can inflict "unacceptable damage" on American bases and allied infrastructure, and intercepting each such projectile costs millions of dollars.(reddit.com) This links to lessons from the war in Ukraine, which the region studies closely: an example of a war of attrition in which the resource-superior side is forced to spend disproportionately to defend against relatively cheap strikes.

If these three national perspectives are assembled into a single picture, the result is a rather bleak but important snapshot of how the US is seen today outside the West itself. For South African authors the war with Iran and the intervention in Venezuela confirm that Washington has not abandoned the reflex of unilateral interventions and is ready to bypass the UN when it deems necessary. For French experts the current US course is a combination of old expansionism and new strategic selfishness that undermines both multilateralism and Western unity. For Saudi and broader Middle Eastern observers American policy looks like a set of risky moves in which regional allies become expendable and targets of retaliatory fire, and the global role of the US evolves from guarantor of order to source of instability.

The common denominator of these different voices is a deep mistrust of the US's ability to act within predictable rules and with regard for partners' interests. It is precisely this mistrust that is now forming a new international image of America — not through official statements from capitals, but through columns by South African journalists, policy notes from French institutes and emotional discussions on Saudi online platforms. Reading them together makes it clear: for a significant part of the world Washington has long ceased to be the "indispensable nation" and is increasingly perceived as one of the great powers engaged in a protracted and ever less controllable struggle for influence.

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Fall of Invincibility: How the US–Iran Conflict Exposed Limits of American Power

Comments and analysis from Russian and regional sources portray the confrontation between the US and Iran not as a demonstration of American dominance, but as a series of miscalculations and constraints revealing Washington’s vulnerability. Column after column highlights an “epic failure” in actions against Iran, questions the US ability to wage a prolonged conflict, and discusses how confident rhetorical moves and Tehran’s strategic flexibility are shifting the balance of power in the Middle East. Taken together, these pieces paint a picture in which the US no longer appears an unquestioned hegemon but is forced to reckon with limits to its military and political role in the region, while Iran uses both diplomatic and military tools to contain and reshape American initiatives. This material was prepared based on publications from aif.ru (Russia) and www.independent.co.uk (South Africa).

Iran’s Deadlock for the US and the Collapse of the Superpower Image

A publication in Argumenty i Fakty headlined about “15 points of US shame,” referenced in the piece on aif.ru, offers the Russian reader not merely another episode of the Middle East crisis but a story of Washington’s “epic failure.” The US–Iran conflict is presented as a symbolic moment of the collapse of the unipolar model and the demystification of the American war machine, which, the author implies, is no longer capable of a rapid, unpunished blitzkrieg.

The central figure in the text is political scientist Vladimir Shapovalov, deputy director of the Institute of History and Politics at Moscow State Pedagogical University. His stance is built on sharp distrust of Western sources and the interpretation of events as an information-propaganda game by the United States. He demonstratively questions the objectivity of The New York Times, saying it cannot be considered an “objective source” and allowing that publications about the supposed “15 points” of US proposals to Iran might be fake. At the same time, he argues that the very fact of such a “leak” is useful: a signal of US weakness and a sign that Washington is forced to seek a way out of an inconvenient war.

Shapovalov reinterprets any possible back-channel negotiations between the US and Iran not as normal diplomatic processes but as a desperate attempt to “save face” and present the campaign’s result as a victory. Washington, he claims, has a “vital” need to declare itself the victor and to “sell the legend” of having eliminated Iran’s nuclear threat. This emphasizes the propagandistic nature of American policy: what matters is not the real outcome but its media packaging for domestic and international audiences.

According to this logic, Trump’s initial plan for a swift blitzkrieg against Iran failed. Instead of a quick military operation, a protracted confrontation arose which, Shapovalov stresses, has already inflicted “economic, political and geopolitical costs” on the US. Washington has become embroiled in a conflict it cannot exit without losing face, and the intended deterrent effect and show of force have backfired — revealing the limitations of a superpower’s capabilities.

For a Russian audience, this perspective is especially advantageous and resonates with dominant narratives. Emphasizing the failure of a “lightning war” by the US echoes Russia’s image of its own resilience under sanctions and military pressure. The recurring motif is that Western coercion no longer works as it once did, and attempts to “punish,” “break” or “intimidate” fail to achieve the desired result. Thus, the conflict with Iran becomes part of a broader scheme in which the US is gradually losing the ability to impose its will.

A separate layer is energy. The Strait of Hormuz and control over oil and gas flows tie into an issue sensitive to Russia’s interests in commodity markets. Shapovalov directly links talk of US–Iran talks to an attempt to “bring down energy prices and calm the markets.” In his reading, Washington is trying both to avoid a full-scale crisis in the Strait of Hormuz that would hit the global economy and to maintain the appearance of control over the situation. For the Russian reader, this fits a familiar picture: American policy again appears as an instrument of control over the global energy market, often at the expense of other suppliers’ interests, including Russia’s.

The piece pays particular attention to how the US is supposedly squeezed between Iran’s hardline position and Israel’s expectations. Israel, in this logic, is not going to quickly wind down military actions and pushes Washington toward a tougher scenario, while Iran demonstrates a willingness to respond “symmetrically,” capable of striking the region’s energy infrastructure. Responsibility for escalation in the Strait of Hormuz is effectively shifted onto Washington. Iran, by contrast, is depicted as a rational player that, possessing escalation capabilities, uses them as a tool of deterrence and bargaining rather than mindless aggression. This indirectly legitimizes Iranian resistance and justifies Russia’s policy of rapprochement with Tehran and its critical stance toward sanctions.

The text constantly relies on images and historical echoes familiar to the Russian public. The key comparison is the “collapse of the US blitzkrieg.” This is a deliberate allusion both to the Soviet experience of repelling Hitler’s blitzkrieg and to the West’s modern “protracted wars” in Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya. The American strategy is described as naive and adventurous: betting on a quick defeat and imposing a political solution turns into long-running conflicts that increase instability and undermine the prestige of the US.

Another persistent motif is the “legend” and manipulation around weapons of mass destruction. Shapovalov and the article’s voice draw a direct parallel with the 2003 Iraq campaign, when the myth of WMD in Baghdad served as a formal casus belli. Now, in their view, the US is again using the narrative of an Iranian “nuclear threat” to justify strikes, sanctions and diplomatic pressure. The public is offered a simple story: there was a terrible threat, Washington decisively intervened and “protected the world.” This is the “legend” that the American elite supposedly must “sell” to the world and to their own voters, hiding the real failure of the blitzkrieg.

Equally important is the pervasive skepticism toward Western media. The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and other major outlets are presented not as independent information sources but as participants in an information war, embedded in a general propaganda mechanism. The pronounced distrust of them, characteristic of the Russian media context, is foregrounded here. The aif.ru piece integrates this distrust into the broader story of the “debunking” of American hegemony: if the West’s flagship media are seen as tools of pressure, then Russian and Iranian resistance automatically looks more justified.

Behind all this is a direct connection to current Russian positioning in world politics. The US appears as a power that can no longer “simply” win and exit a conflict without reputational losses. Every new crisis — from Iraq and Afghanistan to the current confrontation with Iran — is described as a step toward “America’s fall from the pedestal.” Simultaneously, it is emphasized that the US is losing control not only over military dynamics (the war did not become a blitzkrieg) but also over the economy (Washington is unable to truly “calm the markets”) and over its allies (Israel, in this view, continues its own course without much regard for White House interests).

Against this backdrop, Russia appears to the domestic audience as more “composed” and consistent. Unlike the US, which gets stuck in conflicts, Moscow is portrayed as a player capable of dialoguing with Tehran and other regional forces, balancing interests and avoiding demonstrative blitzkriegs. This contrast reinforces Russia’s self-image as one of the pillars of an emerging multipolar world where American hegemony is eroding and space for “non-Western” powers is expanding.

It is important that the Argumenty i Fakty article consciously abandons journalistic neutrality. Factual elements — Trump’s ultimatums, discussion of mythical or real “15 points,” Iran’s reaction, the risk of escalation in the Strait of Hormuz — are used only as a backdrop for an emotionally charged interpretation. Lexical choices such as “epic failure,” “15 points of shame,” and “legend” are set from the start and guide the reader’s perception in the authors’ intended direction. Alternative interpretations of Washington’s motives, American or at least neutral assessments, are practically absent: the “frame of US defeat” is not disputed or problematized.

As a result, the piece serves an obvious domestic political and ideological function. It strengthens entrenched Russian skepticism toward the US and Western media, supports an anti-hegemonic discourse and legitimizes sympathy for Iran as a country “that does not make concessions” and demonstrates the ability to push back against the “superpower.” In this presentation, the US–Iran conflict becomes a clear example of how Washington is losing its monopoly on force and information dominance, and the world is gradually shifting to a system in which “non-Western” players have more room for resistance and independent action.

It is in this light that the aif.ru article appears not merely as commentary on another turn of the Middle East crisis but as part of a larger narrative about the erosion of American hegemony, an energy confrontation and the right of other centers of power to challenge Washington’s claims to sole superpower status.

Iran, the US and the Global South: How the Conflict in the Persian Gulf Is Read from South Africa

A British The Independent piece on the US–Iran confrontation, rising oil prices and Donald Trump’s rhetoric in the context of the Persian Gulf describes a storyline familiar to Western audiences: the risk of military escalation, oil market volatility, statements by American politicians, their impact on US domestic politics and the broader security architecture in the Middle East. However, when this material is viewed from a South African context, the perspective shifts: the question of “who wins the US–Iran showdown” gives way to “whose risks are these,” “how this affects the Global South” and “what this says about the limits of US power in a changing world order.”

From a South African point of view, the confrontation between Washington and Tehran in the waters of the Strait of Hormuz is not a local Middle Eastern skirmish but another episode demonstrating the limits of US military power as a tool of global governance and how vulnerable dependent economies of the Global South are to external energy and financial shocks. The Independent’s focus on rising oil prices and market jitters directly points out that any hint of a blockade in the Strait of Hormuz immediately affects commodity quotes on global exchanges. For London or Washington this is primarily a macroeconomic and geopolitical story; for Pretoria it is a hit to the pocket: South Africa is a net importer of oil and petroleum products, and any sustained rise in oil prices directly pushes up inflation, weakens the rand, and raises transport and electricity costs.

In this sense, news about Trump’s rhetoric — his promises of a “tough response” to Iran and statements that Tehran allegedly “fears admitting it is seeking negotiations” — which sway oil prices, in the South African interpretation look like an example of how domestic political games in the US convert into real costs for countries not involved in the conflict. If The Independent analyzes such rhetoric in the logic of the US election scene and debates over foreign policy, in South Africa it is perceived as confirmation of an imbalance: unilateral actions by a superpower can become a shock for the entire Global South, leaving those countries without mechanisms to influence the situation.

The political spectrum within South Africa traditionally shades reactions to such crises across several lines. The official and pro-government camp — primarily the African National Congress and parts of the executive — prefers the language of “balance”: acknowledging “legitimate security interests of all parties” while harshly criticizing unilateral US sanctions as instruments of coercion. In the spirit of how South Africa positions itself in the UN and BRICS, calls for multilateral diplomacy and political settlement instead of military threats and sanctioning suffocation typically sound. An escalation in the Persian Gulf like that described in The Independent is interpreted as an illustration of the limit of US military power: even with technical superiority, Washington is unable to build a stable order, and protracted crises become the norm.

Opposition and more liberal forces — the Democratic Alliance and parts of the expert community — are more cautious in direct criticism of Washington, but their emphasis also shifts from ideological assessment to pragmatism: any regional war around Hormuz or Iran is dangerous primarily as a blow to the global economy and trade routes. They stress that for an energy-importing economy like South Africa’s, stability of supplies and predictability of oil prices are questions of survival for the middle and poor classes. In this context, the details The Independent points to — price fluctuations in response to Trump’s statements and moves by Iranian leadership, possible risks to shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, nervousness among insurers and logistics firms — become for South Africa a direct projection onto future domestic inflation, tariffs and economic growth rates.

Leftists, trade unions and activist movements — from the EFF to Palestinian and anti-imperialist networks — view the Iran–US confrontation through the lens of “global resistance to American imperialism.” For them, Tehran’s rhetoric of standing up to external pressure resonates with their own historical memory of the struggle against apartheid, selective Western sanctions, and Western capitals’ support for “convenient” regimes in Africa during the Cold War. Theses that in the British piece are packaged in the language of international security and “containment” easily translate on the South African street into language about inequality, neocolonialism and “double standards” in the application of international law.

South Africa’s historical experience with sanctions plays a special role. When The Independent describes Western sanctions pressure on Iran as part of a Western strategy, Pretoria inevitably recalls two layers: the sanctions campaign against South Africa during apartheid and modern restrictive measures against Russia and a number of Global South states. From this past arises a persistent distrust of sanctions as a “neutral” legal tool: South African analysts tend to see them as a political weapon that rarely leads to peace and reform but often strengthens hardline and conservative forces inside targeted countries, pushing them toward more radical courses.

All this fits into a broader picture in which South Africa sees itself as part of an emerging multipolar world. Unlike the Western focus on how the crisis around Iran affects the US’s status as “leader of the free world,” the South African perspective emphasizes that the unipolar moment after the Cold War is passing and that US attempts to impose its will by force are colliding with growing capacities of regional powers and alternative centers of power. In this sense, any demonstration that the US cannot unilaterally resolve the Iranian issue — as indirectly evidenced by the prolonged rounds of pressure, Tehran’s countersteps, episodes of escalation and setbacks described in The Independent — is perceived in South Africa as confirmation of the trend of waning American hegemony.

This trend is directly linked to the growing role of BRICS and the BRICS+ format. For the South African establishment, participation alongside China, Russia, India and Brazil — and now an expanded circle of states — is not only an economic but also a political-symbolic resource: the ability to balance Western influence, secure better terms of trade and credit, and build diplomatic formats that do not depend on Washington’s or Brussels’ will. The US–Iran conflict, which in the British account appears as a threat of regional war and a challenge for US Middle East allies, from a South African perspective fits into the narrative that in the new world order space for maneuver for Global South countries may expand — but the cost of others’ mistakes and foreign wars for them also increases.

Finally, there is a difference in scale of attention. If The Independent, following the logic of British and American media, closely tracks the dynamics of strikes, statements, rises or falls in oil quotes and domestic political consequences for Trump and his opponents, the South African lens is less sensitive to the nuances of American party politics. The question of how escalation around Iran will affect Trump’s chances of returning to the White House or the positions of his rivals recedes to second place. Far more important is what it will mean for fuel prices in South Africa, the rand’s exchange rate, government budget space, and social tension in a society where unemployment remains one of the highest in the world.

As a result, The Independent’s piece on the US–Iran confrontation, oil markets and Donald Trump’s rhetoric in the Persian Gulf, read from South Africa, becomes another argument in favor of the thesis: the era of unconditional American hegemony is ending, and any forceful scenarios in strategic regions — from the Strait of Hormuz to the Eastern Mediterranean — pose direct threats to the economic and social stability of Global South countries like South Africa, even though these countries have almost no voice in decisions that trigger such crises. From the South African perspective, the response can only be strengthening multipolarity, developing alternative institutions and building diplomatic agency of one’s own — otherwise “other people’s” wars will continue to determine “our” daily lives.

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How the world disputes America: the war with Iran, oil and the “Washington effect” in Russia, Turkey...

In mid‑March 2026 the role of the United States in the world is being discussed primarily through the prism of a new war: the joint American‑Israeli campaign against Iran, which began on February 28, has become the main filter through which Russia, Turkey and Australia view Washington. But this is not only a conversation about bombings and “Epic Fury” — as the Pentagon called its operation against Iran — but also about petrol prices in Ankara, airfares in Sydney, political alliances, shipping, the share of the US in the world economy and even the future of NATO. Three interconnected storylines come to the fore: the war itself and its legitimacy, the economic consequences of American decisions, and the question of how sensible it is to bet on Washington as the principal ally.

The main theme became the very nature and objectives of the US and Israeli war against Iran. In Russian‑language discourse the conflict is more often described as the culmination of a broader crisis between Washington and Tehran that began even before the official start of the operation and includes the failure of nuclear talks and Iranian strikes on US bases in the Middle East. Russian and pro‑Russian sources emphasize that on February 28, 2026 it was the US and Israel who first delivered massive strikes against Iran, after which there was a retaliatory salvo against American facilities in Qatar, Kuwait, the UAE and Bahrain, followed by a series of incidents in the Indian Ocean where a US submarine sank the Iranian frigate IRIS Dena. (ru.wikipedia.org) In this telling the US appears not as a reactor but as the initiator of forceful escalation, which allows Russian authors to fit the war into the familiar narrative of “illegal interventions” and regime change.

In the Turkish media space the tone is noticeably different, but the core of the discussion also remains the question of Washington’s calculations. Here the war is simply called “İran savaşı” — “the war with Iran” — and almost always mentions America’s role first, using the formula “ABD‑İsrail ile İran arasındaki savaş” — “the war between the US‑Israel and Iran.” Thus, in an analysis by the Nefes portal it is said that by the 17th day of the war, according to Tehran, more than 500 people had died in the capital alone from American‑Israeli strikes, and the campaign continues “with full intensity.” (nefes.com.tr) This creates for the Turkish audience an image of a protracted, bloody conflict in which the US is not merely forcefully “restoring order,” but is increasingly entangling itself.

A separate strand of Turkish commentary is doubt about the White House’s strategic calculation. In the piece “Washington'da savaş pişmanlığı” (“Military remorse in Washington”) the same Nefes cites anonymous American officials who allegedly already fear the war could drag on for months and turn into an “escalation trap” for the Trump administration. Analysts recall that last year’s successes of a “targeted operation” against Iran and the abduction of Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela produced in the president a “surge of overconfidence” — and it is precisely this that, in essence, dragged the US into a larger war. (nefes.com.tr) The key motive of Turkish authors is that the US again overestimates its military power and underestimates the political and economic costs.

Against this background the statements of Iranian leaders, widely quoted in Turkish and Russian media, sound especially striking. Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, commenting on the US campaign, said that “our powerful armed forces will continue to fire until the President of the United States understands that the illegal war he is imposing on both Iranians and Americans is wrong and must never be repeated.” (mk.ru) Iranian President Masud Pezeshkian emphasizes in an interview with Turkish TV channel TV5 that his country “did not start this war and does not seek to continue it,” while Secretary of the Supreme National Security Council Ali Larijani addresses Donald Trump directly on the social network X: “Hatanızı kabul edip bunun bedelini ödeyene kadar sizi rahat bırakmayacağız” — “We will not leave you alone until you admit your mistake and pay for it.” (tv5.com.tr) The Turkish public receives the American war through the eyes of Iranian leadership, which further blurs the propagandistic image of a “surgical operation” that Washington had hoped to project.

In Russia Iranian statements are often woven into a broader critique of American foreign policy as a system. The Belarusian publication Nasha Niva, whose materials are widely cited in Russian feeds, emphasizes that Trump, inspired by “the most successful operation in US history” — the capture of Maduro — perceives force as a universal tool, and the willingness to “come to the rescue of Iranian protesters” in case of violence merely masks a strategic aim of regime change in Tehran. (nashaniva.com) In this reading the current war is a continuation of a line of forceful intervention begun earlier, and many Russian commentators do not miss the chance to recall Yugoslavia, Iraq and Libya to show that in Iran the US allegedly repeats the same scenario again.

If in Russian and Turkish discourses the US primarily appears as a military actor, in Australia and neighboring New Zealand Washington’s role is discussed through the prism of alliance obligations and economic consequences. Formally Canberra supported the American‑Israeli operation against Iran and, as a number of English‑language reviews note, stresses commitment to the alliance with the US. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, according to an analytical review of Australia’s participation in the war, assures that the country will not send ground troops to Iran and will limit itself to “exclusively defensive measures” — for example, strengthening allies’ air defenses and exchanging intelligence. (en.wikipedia.org) In this statement one hears the desire to strike a balance: confirm fidelity to Washington without repeating the unpopular domestic experience of land operations in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Australian and New Zealand media, especially business and travel sections, meanwhile increasingly recall the US not only as a warring power but also as an oil superpower whose actions instantly affect prices worldwide. Turkish Euronews explains in detail how strikes on refining capacity in the Persian Gulf and the blocking of tankers in the Strait of Hormuz related to the US‑Israel–Iran war have driven up oil prices, and along with them — the cost of jet fuel. The article gives a telling example: Air New Zealand announced fare increases — NZD 10 for domestic flights, NZD 20 for short internationals and NZD 90 for long‑haul services. (tr.euronews.com) Although the text is written in Turkish, the reader easily reads the global nature of the shock: Washington’s and its allies’ decision to bomb Iran immediately turns into pricier tickets in Auckland or Melbourne.

In Australian debates this intensifies an old dispute: how profitable is a “hard tethering” to the US if every spike of tension involving Washington instantly hits energy prices and tourist flows? Economic commentators point to how the war in Iran and sanctions on Tehran exacerbate a general trend toward fragmentation of the global economy, in which the US increasingly acts as an initiator of protectionist barriers and export controls. On Turkish‑language forums discussing the global economy it is said outright that high US trade barriers have triggered an unexpected “domino effect”: economies outside America are drawing closer to each other, forming new trade blocs, while risks for investors in US markets grow because of political unpredictability and overvaluation of tech stocks. (reddit.com) For countries like Australia, whose trade ties with China and Asian markets are as important as the alliance with the US, this raises the question: will Washington be a partner or a source of constant shocks?

Turkey, being both a NATO member and a country deeply tied to Middle Eastern energy and trade, reacts to this duality particularly acutely. On the one hand, its financial and analytical institutions — from forex bulletins to daily market notes — record daily the impact of the US war against Iran on global markets: they note how “Iran savaşı ve yükselen petrol fiyatları” — “the war with Iran and rising oil prices” — weigh on American indices and increase volatility worldwide, provoking sell‑offs on Wall Street and forcing the Turkish regulator to prepare measures to protect the lira. (cdn.gedik.com) For Ankara this is not an abstract story: rising oil prices hit inflation, budget spending and political stability, and many observers openly write that “if the US‑Iran war drags on, pressure on energy markets and the Turkish economy will only intensify.”

On the other hand, in the Turkish patriotic press the US increasingly appears not simply as an ally but as an “imperialist predator” whose presence in the region threatens Turkey’s sovereignty. Thus, in a hardline column in the newspaper Aydınlık the author, criticizing the war, calls support for Iran a form of resistance to “emperyalist yırtıcılara” — imperialist predators — and questions the very presence of American and NATO facilities on Turkish territory: “İncirlik, Kürecik, Kisecik gibi üslerin varlığı… ulusal egemenliğimiz için açık tehdittir” — “the existence of bases like İncirlik, Kürecik, Kisecik… is an obvious threat to our national sovereignty.” (aydinlik.com.tr) The rhetorical question posed by the author — why Turkish military bases are on Turkish soil rather than Turkish bases on American soil — well illustrates a growing demand in part of society for more equal relations with Washington.

Russian discourse is built not only on emotional criticism but also on drawing direct parallels between the US‑Israeli war against Iran and US actions around Ukraine. Articles and analytical notes emphasize that the current crisis with Tehran is a continuation of a line where the US already “directly intervenes” in conflicts along Russia’s borders and in neighboring regions, using sanctions, military aid and diplomatic pressure. Discussions of the Iranian war are accompanied by references to recent trilateral US‑Russia‑Ukraine meetings in Abu Dhabi and Geneva, where American negotiators, according to some authors, tried simultaneously to “save face” before Kyiv and Moscow and not lose control over energy and mineral flows. (en.wikipedia.org) Here a persistent motif arises: the US supposedly behaves as a global manager of resources, intervening where oil, gas or strategic deposits are at stake.

Against this background specific Russian storylines appear that are barely visible in the English‑language press. For example, in a recent issue of Izvestia there is an alarmed discussion of the Pentagon’s decision to revise its policy of cooperation with American AI companies: the Ministry of Defense, according to the newspaper, demanded lifting restrictions on the use of their technologies for mass surveillance and autonomous weapons, and the refusal of one developer led to its effective exclusion from state contracts — freeing a niche for more loyal suppliers. (cdn.iz.ru) In this story Russian readers are shown the US as a country where the military sector readily subsumes cutting‑edge civilian technologies — and this image easily fits into the broader perception of Washington as a force ready to transgress both external and internal law for the sake of dominance.

Another thread that converges in all three countries is doubt about Washington’s ability to fully calculate the consequences of its forceful actions. In Turkey this is discussed in terms of how quickly the US is burning through its ammunition reserves in the war with Iran. On a popular investment forum an estimate is quoted that America in a matter of weeks exhausted that part of the arsenal that was considered “meant to last years,” and now is forced to replenish its market with defense orders, to the point that Turkish companies are launching lines in the US to produce 155‑mm artillery shells. “Rusya ile aynı batağa düştü Amerika,” — writes one commenter — “America has fallen into the same quagmire as Russia; both superpowers thought ‘it will surrender in three days and we will win,’ and both were wrong.” (reddit.com)

In Russia a similar motif sounds through parallels between the current war and previous US conflicts in the Middle East: analysts and columnists repeat that Washington again underestimated the enemy’s resilience and overestimated its own ability to control the postwar order. A Belarusian piece “The US considers the next step on Iran” directly warns: even if American air forces manage for a time to suppress Iranian military capabilities, the exit for Washington will not be simple — neither a scenario of prolonged occupation nor a new wave of sanctions guarantees the desired regime change, and every day of war increases the risk of retaliatory strikes against American citizens and targets around the world. (nashaniva.com)

Australian and New Zealand observers, less emotional than their Russian and Turkish colleagues, nevertheless reach a similar conclusion but through the lens of economics. They are less interested in the battlefield layout than in the resilience of the US as the core of the global financial system amid growing geopolitical adventures. Market analysts in Istanbul and Sydney note in sync: every new turn of tension involving the US intensifies sell‑offs on Wall Street and pushes some global investors away from American assets, which in the long run may accelerate diversification of world reserves and the rise of alternative centers of capital attraction. (bigpara.hurriyet.com.tr)

As a result a multilayered international image of the US emerges, markedly different from that offered to the American audience itself. In Russia Washington is seen primarily as a military superpower, habitually violating norms of sovereignty and international law while projecting force on Russia’s periphery — from Ukraine to the Middle East. In Turkey, where the web of interests is more complex, the US is perceived simultaneously as a necessary but dangerous ally: a country whose bases sit on your soil and whose protection partly guarantees security, but whose wars raise your energy bills and push you to reconsider participation in Western security structures. In Australia and New Zealand the focus shifts to pragmatism: here Washington is the main military partner and at the same time a source of price and financial shocks that must be lived with and which force a more cautious approach to betting on the “American bloc” amid Asia’s rising economy.

Across all three countries a common, if differently worded, idea appears in recent commentary: the world is entering a period when any unilateral forceful decisions by the US — be it war with Iran, tightening sanctions or new trade barriers — become not merely local episodes but triggers of complex and often uncontrollable chains of consequences. And the more frequently this repeats, the less willingness there is to perceive Washington as an unconditional center of “order and stability” — and the stronger the drive to seek one’s own, sometimes painful but more independent trajectories in a changing world order.

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How the World Reads Washington: South Korea, Russia and China on US Foreign Policy

At the end of March 2026, the image of America outside the West is again being shaped around power and risk, rather than the familiar talk of "liberal leadership." In South Korea, Russia and China, the discussion is less about an abstract "US image" and more about a very concrete set of Washington moves: a war with Iran, a new "Shield of the Americas" strategy in the Western Hemisphere, increased pressure on rivals, and a reliance on military power as a response to domestic problems. Each region reads US actions primarily as a reflection of its own fears and hopes.

The central axis of most recent commentary is the conflict with Iran and a broader turn in American security policy. Since February–March 2026, the Iran war and surrounding developments — debates in the US Congress, the resignation of Joe Kent as head of the National Counterterrorism Center over disagreement with the escalation course, calls to limit presidential war powers — have become a kind of litmus test for foreign press: America is at war again in the Middle East, and resistance to that course is already emerging within the United States.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Against this background, Latin America and Asia have been actively discussing the initiative announced by Washington in March 2026, the "Shield of the Americas" — a new pan-American security format intended to coordinate the fight against transnational criminal organizations and cartels, and clearly conceived as a geopolitical response to China's growing presence and that of other actors in the region.(zh.wikipedia.org) Although formally about crime and drug trafficking, outside the US this initiative is mainly interpreted as a return to a renewed version of the Monroe Doctrine: the United States is again asserting that the Western Hemisphere is its "sphere of special responsibility." In Asian and especially Chinese commentary, the "Shield of the Americas" is directly linked to the Trump administration's policy line of a "hemispheric" redistribution of resources: less engagement in Europe, concentration on confronting China in the Indo‑Pacific, and simultaneously "securing the rear" in Latin America.(reddit.com)

Through the prism of Iran and the "Shield of the Americas," international commentators try to understand the new architecture of American power. Russian analytical journals and socio‑political newspapers interpret the US and allied conflict with Iran as another example of Washington's unilateral use of force that undermines the remnants of postwar international law. In one Russian business outlet, discussing the chances of thawing frozen Russian assets in the West, the author directly links the freezes to a "legal revolution" initiated by the US in recent years: from extraterritorial sanctions to unilateral seizure of assets for political ends. In the same vein are placed strikes on Iran and new unilateral sanctions as a continuation of America's "jurisdictional expansionism," only now in military form.(cdn.iz.ru) The leitmotif of Russian texts is that the US will continue to use force and the financial system as a unified toolkit of pressure, and European allies, even when critical, will ultimately adapt.

Chinese official and quasi‑state media are, by contrast, more cautious in rhetoric, but underlying distrust of the US is no less pronounced. In one issue of Gongzhou Ribao and labor press covering international news, the American line is described through the prism of "general instability in the world economy": analysis of Federal Reserve decisions links Washington's monetary course directly to risks to global financial security. A commentator writes that in the context of a Middle East conflict and rising military burdens, the US will be forced to keep interest rates high for longer, which in turn shifts the costs of American strategy onto emerging markets.(workercn.cn) Official Chinese newspapers avoid direct attacks on Trump and his cabinet, but repeatedly return to the motif: "The US is using the economy and military power in tandem, and that makes the world less predictable."

The South Korean debate emphasizes a different point: there the question is less about US global ambitions and more about how reliably Washington will keep the "security umbrella" over Seoul when White House and Pentagon attention is dispersed among the Middle East, the Indo‑Pacific and now Latin America. South Korean commentators in English‑ and Korean‑language outlets note that the Trump administration's prioritization — a sharp focus on containing China and the Iranian threat — objectively weakens the US motivation to devote resources to the traditional North Korean nuclear agenda. Analysts in Seoul recall recent signals from Washington about the need for a "fair burden‑sharing" and warn that against the backdrop of wars and sanctions, the US will demand even larger defense spending increases from allies, up to raising expenditures to 3% of GDP and beyond.(reddit.com)

Despite different contexts, in all three countries a surprisingly similar motive emerges in interpreting American foreign policy: the view that the US is trying to resolve domestic political and socio‑economic contradictions by directing force outward. Chinese social networks picked up a remark Trump made at a March 2026 reception for the Inter Miami soccer club, where, speaking about Cuba, he said that a regime change there is "only a matter of time." Users and commentators saw these words as a continuation of the line: after Iran, Washington will seek a new external front to maintain a high level of mobilization. One discussed comment summed it up: "Today Iran, tomorrow Cuba, the day after — another enemy; today's America is trying to relieve internal pressure through constant external conflicts, but that's a road to nowhere."(reddit.com) For Chinese audiences this interpretation fits neatly into the traditional propaganda frame: the crisis of liberal capitalism forces the US to export instability.

In Russia this perception is amplified by the personality of Trump and the "hawks" he has appointed. Russian columnists recall the thesis "peace through strength," which the new US defense secretary and a potential curator of strategic planning at the Pentagon tied to the task of preventing regional Chinese dominance.(reddit.com) Moscow reads this formula as a veiled promise of long‑term confrontation in which Russia automatically ends up in the camp of "Beijing's strategic partners," regardless of its own wishes. It is no coincidence that Russian press repeatedly cites the notion that "US policy is independently pushing Russia into China's arms," although official Moscow formally speaks of "multipolarity" and a "sovereign strategy."

South Korea is a special case because America there is simultaneously an object of fear and the indispensable guarantor of security. Among Korean analysts the idea of a "two‑speed" alliance is actively discussed: on the one hand, Seoul is compelled to integrate even more tightly into US military plans in the region, participate in exercises, and expand joint missile defense and maritime patrol systems; on the other hand, voices calling for a "Plan B" are growing louder in case Washington is drawn into a protracted Middle East war or a risky confrontation with China and the real willingness to come to Korea's aid diminishes. Domestic debates over whether to develop an indigenous nuclear capability or at least broaden access to American capabilities are directly fueled by a sense that the US is becoming an increasingly unpredictable ally.

Interestingly, the "Shield of the Americas" theme produces curious parallels between Russian and Chinese assessments. For Moscow, it proves that the US, even when overloaded with conflicts, is not ready to abandon the role of "regional sheriff" in the Western Hemisphere, and therefore could at any moment expand this model to other regions — from the Black Sea to the Arctic. Russian commentators recall how, under the slogans of combating drug trafficking and terrorism, American bases and operations were legitimized in various parts of the world in the past. For China, the "Shield of the Americas" is rather a signal that Washington is deliberately concentrating resources in its "near abroad" to free its hands for a long struggle in the Indo‑Pacific: it is not accidental that many Chinese authors see the initiative as following the logic "first secure the rear in Latin America, then take the main fight to the western Pacific."(zh.wikipedia.org)

At the level of official statements and semi‑state experts, Beijing still prefers to speak about "avoiding a new Cold War" and "respecting the legitimate interests of all parties," but in Chinese media one will hardly find rhetoric suggesting that the US and China can "share world leadership." The tone has hardened, yet become more pragmatic: in Beijing's assessments, the US is not merely a competitor but a systemic rival that will use any pretext — from the Middle East to Cuba — to strengthen its military‑political position.

The common denominator of all these reactions is that almost no one any longer treats American policy as a set of isolated episodes. In Seoul, people are thinking about how Korea's participation in American strategies against China will affect the North Korean issue. In Moscow, they discuss how US wars in the Middle East and new security doctrines influence the prospects for preserving Russian assets and status in international organizations. In Beijing, analysts carefully link military escalation with macroeconomic decisions by the Fed and the question of how long developing countries will tolerate dollar dependence amid endless sanctions and conflicts.(workercn.cn)

It is in this multilayering that the main difference of the current wave of international reaction to the US lies. If under previous administrations debate often boiled down to assessments of the American leader's charisma or the "soft power" of Hollywood and Silicon Valley, now South Korea, Russia and China view Washington through a cold prism of strategic costs and benefits. Some, like Seoul, still rely on the American nuclear umbrella and technological partnership, but increasingly contemplate a contingency plan. Some, like Moscow, use each new US action as proof of the need for a "sovereign" distance from the Western financial system and institutions. Some, like Beijing, see in every Washington move confirmation that a long period of relative cooperation is over, and are preparing for a decade of managed confrontation.

As a result, today in spring 2026 American power remains the main factor in world politics, but scarcely anywhere in the East is it perceived as self‑evidently legitimate. The Iran war, the "Shield of the Americas," Trump's hints at future regime changes — for Seoul, Moscow and Beijing these are not separate stories but chapters of one large narrative: about how the US, trying to maintain the status of the sole superpower, increasingly relies on force — and thereby forces the world to seek ways to live in the shadow of that force, but not under it.

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The World Through Washington's Lens: Russia, Germany and China on Today’s U.S.

In March 2026, conversation about the United States in leading countries around the world again concentrates simultaneously on American power and its vulnerabilities. Washington is conducting a large-scale war against Iran, continues to define the contours of the conflict over Ukraine, launches new security initiatives in its hemisphere and, at the same time, destabilizes the global economy with unpredictable tariff policy. Against this backdrop, Russia, Germany and China view the United States as a source of threats, opportunities and systemic risk to the global order — but each in its own way and tied to its own fears and interests.

The most discussed topics today are the American military campaign against Iran and the expansion of U.S. presence in the Middle East; Washington’s role in the war in Ukraine; the new “shield” initiative in the Western Hemisphere, symbolizing a reformatting of American influence in the Americas; and U.S. domestic economic and tariff policy, which, Chinese and European authors emphasize, is increasingly becoming an instrument of political pressure. Each country overlays this common set of narratives with its own historical traumas and expectations of “America.”

The central nerve of the discussion is the U.S. war against Iran. Russian political and military commentators describe the deployment of American forces and the ensuing war as a predictable but nevertheless dangerous escalation scenario. Russian reviews point not only to U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran, but also to Iranian drone retaliatory attacks on American facilities, including a strike on a U.S. site in Kuwait with noticeable U.S. military casualties. This is presented as confirmation of the thesis that the American strategy of “controlled escalation” in the Middle East has long ceased to be controlled and drags allies and neighboring states into the orbit of war. One Russian commentator in Izvestia emphasizes that even within the U.S. the number of complaints from military personnel about commanders’ religious‑ideological rhetoric — justifying participation in the war by appealing to a “crusade” — is growing; Russian press interprets this as a sign of radicalization of American political culture and elites’ detachment from society. (zh.wikipedia.org)

Chinese analysts approach the same conflict through the prism of resilience: how long the American economy and political system will hold up during a protracted campaign, and how long Iran can withstand strikes. For example, one prominent section of a South China newspaper is built around two questions: “How long will American energy resources last?” and “How long can Iran endure?” The authors cautiously but consistently stress that ongoing U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran create risks for the energy security of the entire East and, in particular, for countries dependent on Middle Eastern oil, including Japan and China. At Foreign Ministry briefings, the PRC’s official spokesperson, in response to questions about the bombings of Iran and strikes on American and Israeli targets, repeats the mantra of the need for “restraint” and “dialogue,” but in Chinese publications this is read as criticism that Washington first destroys the balance of power and then calls for “responsible behavior.” (ep.ycwb.com)

The German optics on the war with Iran are less emotional and more “managerial.” In the German press the main concern is how a protracted conflict will affect energy markets and already strained European defense planning. Analytical notes emphasize that any major American campaign outside Europe automatically increases pressure on NATO allies to assume greater obligations for Ukraine and the eastern flank. German commentators, relying on sociology, remind readers: society is not prepared for further increases in military spending and certainly not for Bundeswehr participation in potential “peacekeeping missions” in hot zones if simultaneously the U.S. launches a new war in the Middle East. (reddit.com)

The second major block is the U.S. role in continuing the war in Ukraine. For Russia this is, of course, the main context of all Washington policy. Russian media meticulously track the chronology of hostilities and constantly link successes and failures of the Ukrainian army to shipments of American weaponry, Congressional decisions on aid packages and “NATO warehouses” on the territory of European countries. In recent issues of major Russian newspapers, analysts argue that ammunition depots and logistics hubs in Germany and other EU countries effectively turn them into participants in the conflict, even if formally “NATO troops” do not fight. Parallels are drawn with the U.S. campaign against Iran: in both cases, Russian authors assert, Washington seeks to wage war “with other people’s hands,” minimizing its own losses while maximizing strategic pressure on adversaries. (ru.wikipedia.org)

In Germany the discussion about the American role in Ukraine runs through the prism of an internal debate over Germans’ willingness to pay the price for “Western solidarity.” Against the backdrop of a protracted conflict and growing demands from NATO allies, contradictory voices are heard domestically. On the one hand, the annual Berlin Pulse survey has previously shown that the majority of Germans in principle support the idea of a more active German role in ensuring European security, theoretically including peacekeeping missions. On the other hand, protest sentiments are visible in the information space against the return of conscription and plans to send questionnaires to all 18‑year‑olds, which in online discussions crystallizes into slogans about unwillingness to “die for geopolitics” and reinforces skepticism toward American initiatives perceived as sources of new obligations for Europe. Against this background, Washington often appears in German texts not as “leader of the free world” but as a partner whose decisions automatically expand Berlin’s responsibilities, not always taking into account the internal legitimacy of such steps within Germany itself. (reddit.com)

In China the Ukrainian theme is linked to the U.S. primarily as an example of “bloc thinking” and a “Cold War mentality.” In Chinese analytical materials over recent months a pattern emerges: Washington wages a proxy war in Europe, intervenes directly in the Middle East and at the same time launches a new wave of economic pressure in Asia and Latin America. This is presented as evidence of the U.S.’s inability to perceive the world as multipolar: any autonomous policy of other centers of power is perceived by the American establishment as a challenge that must be suppressed through sanctions, military alliances or information campaigns.

The third major theme is the reformatting of American influence in the Western Hemisphere through new security initiatives. Chinese and Latin American materials actively dissect Washington’s announced initiative called the “shield” or “Shield of the Americas,” aimed at combating transnational crime and drug cartels and simultaneously consolidating allies in the Western Hemisphere under American leadership. Chinese analysts primarily see this as an instrument for cementing American dominance in its “own backyard” and for containing alternative partnerships in the region — from Chinese infrastructure projects to energy and military‑technical cooperation with other external actors. Official publications note that under the slogans of the fight against drug trafficking, the U.S. gains legitimation to expand military and intelligence presence in Central and South America. (zh.wikipedia.org)

The Russian perspective here is somewhat different: in Moscow the initiative is seen as part of a broader U.S. pivot to so‑called “Western Hemisphere realism” of the Trump era, within which resources and attention increasingly concentrate on the American continent and competition with China, while Europe and even the Middle East are supposed to gradually transition to a mode of “managed spheres of influence” with a division of labor between Washington and regional allies. For Russian analysts, the important point is that such a pivot reduces Russia’s room for maneuver in Latin America and complicates attempts to exploit anti‑American sentiment there.

Against this backdrop, special attention in discussions is given to U.S. domestic economic and tariff policy. Chinese business and general‑political publications almost daily analyze the consequences of what Beijing calls the White House’s “tariff pendulum”: abrupt, sometimes contradictory decisions on duties on imports from Mexico, Canada, China and the EU affect global supply chains and undermine predictability in world trade. One Chinese legal‑economic newspaper provided a detailed analysis of the president’s latest steps in imposing and readjusting 25 percent tariffs on goods from neighboring countries, and forecast a rise in the U.S. budget deficit to more than 6% of GDP by 2026. Authors cite assessments by Western economists that the combination of a high deficit and tariff aggression undermines confidence in American fiscal policy and accelerates the search for alternatives to the dollar in regional settlements. (epaper.legaldaily.com.cn)

In Germany this topic is presented less as an existential threat and more as an irritant. German commentary on tariff wars reminds readers that business needs predictability: every “twist‑decision” from Washington calls U.S. investment into question and forces German companies to hedge by redirecting flows to Asia and within the EU. However, unlike China, European authors more often speak not of a “systemic competition with the U.S.” but of the need to “educate” Washington, persuading it to abandon unilateral measures and return to multilateral WTO rules — even if these calls largely remain rhetorical.

An interesting layer of discussion about the U.S. appears in less official but revealing debates. On Russian‑language forums and social networks the question “what do you think about the U.S.?” regularly appears. In these discussions Russia often describes the current world as “Pax Americana,” a world under American leadership that, however, is already “on the horizon” being succeeded by “Pax China” — an era when China’s economic and technological weight will surpass America’s. Some participants emphasize that U.S. power is still based on the attractiveness of its culture, market scale and innovation, while others point to internal polarization, a crisis of freedom of speech and the growing influence of radical movements, seeing these as sources of future weakening of American influence. In these debates the U.S. is simultaneously an object of envy, a symbol of hypocrisy, and still the main benchmark against which the “success” or “backwardness” of one’s own countries is measured. (reddit.com)

Chinese online discussions are usually less emotional, but they increasingly express the idea that the U.S. is an “inevitable opponent, yet still a necessary market.” On the one hand, young commentators sarcastically discuss American social problems, from mass shootings to racial conflict, arguing that Washington has “lost the moral right” to teach others about democracy. On the other hand, entrepreneurs and economists remind readers that American demand remains a key driver for whole sectors of the Chinese economy, and any sharp deterioration with the U.S. will immediately hit jobs inside China itself. In this duality there is respect for American technological might and at the same time criticism of its political shell.

In the German public sphere the discussion about America is increasingly generationally split. The older generation still sees the U.S. as a guarantor of security and the most important political ally without whom one cannot build a European architecture to deter Russia. Young Germans participating in protests against militarization and the return of conscription more often perceive Washington as a symbol of “militarized capitalism,” which exports not only culture and technology but also wars. Some placards and slogans at student protests explicitly or implicitly contrast the need to solve Germany’s internal social problems with the pressure from NATO allies led by the U.S. to “do more” militarily.

In the end, if one attempts to synthesize these divergent views, a paradoxical image of the U.S. at the start of 2026 emerges. For Russia it remains the main military and ideological adversary, whose actions in Ukraine and the Middle East define the fundamental parameters of Russian security. For Germany it is a complicated but indispensable partner, whose decisions influence energy prices, the contours of European defense, and the limits of acceptable economic losses for allied solidarity. For China it is a strategic competitor and at the same time a central economic counterparty, whose tariff experiments and military adventures accelerate the search for alternatives but do not yet negate objective interdependence.

What all three countries share is that the U.S. is increasingly no longer perceived as a “normal” participant in the international system. For Russia it has long been a symbol of the “hostile West.” For Germany it is a partner that needs to be constantly “compensated” for through European policy. For China it is a hegemon that must be managed, constrained and at the same time used. And the longer the war with Iran and the conflict in Ukraine remain fixtures on the American military and political calendar, the more this ambivalence will harden into a persistent distrust of Washington’s ability to be not only strong but also a responsible center of power.

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How America Looks from Berlin, Tel Aviv and Paris: new wars, old fears and the debate about...

Spring 2026 again made the United States a central subject in foreign media, but not in the usual logic of “America as a model” or “America as the enemy.” This time Germany, Israel and France speak of America as a power on which their own security and political future depend, and at the same time as a problem they must live with and adapt to. The increase in American military presence in the Middle East, Washington’s ultimatum to Iran, US support for Israel in the protracted war in Gaza, the hard rhetoric of the new American president toward Europe, and uncertainty around strategic nuclear arms treaties — all of this weaves into one question: can one still build their order of the world assuming that America will ultimately “hold the umbrella”?

The first common thread, visible across all three countries, is anxiety about a new American escalation in the Middle East. In the French media the reinforcement of US military presence in the region since early 2026 is described as “the largest deployment of forces since 2003,” with aircraft, ships and an anti‑missile system amid growing confrontation with Iran and a harsh crackdown on Iranian protests. French analysts see this as a return to a “maximum pressure” logic restored by Washington: sanctions, attempts to zero out Iranian oil exports, and military demonstrations of readiness to strike. (fr.wikipedia.org)

In the Israeli discourse the same American turn is perceived much more personally. Israeli commentators emphasize Washington’s ultimatum tone toward Tehran — “dismantle your nuclear program or face ‘other options,’” as one religious‑conservative news blog put it commenting on the US statement in February. (bshch.blogspot.com) For an Israeli audience accustomed to seeing Iran as an existential threat, such a turn is perceived as a belated but welcome return of America to the role of the region’s “tough sheriff.” Yet even here the question is raised: is this a coordinated strategy that takes allies’ interests into account, or a new wave of unilateral White House decisions that Israel will be forced either to support or to “take the heat” for?

A different tone predominates in the French and German press: more concern than relief. In Paris, fresh debates on national defense strategy and the updated “National Strategy Review” push commentators to compare the French and American approaches to deterrence. France, strengthening its own nuclear shield and emphasizing Europe’s role in collective security, looks at the US as a factor of instability that simultaneously makes European autonomy more urgent and more risky. (fr.wikipedia.org) German analytical bulletins, discussing Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s visits to Washington and the prospects of a “post‑American” security, remind readers that the latest treaties limiting nuclear weapons are expiring, and with them the foundation of predictability Europe has been used to since the Cold War. (steubing.com)

The second major storyline is related to US support for Israel in the war in Gaza, which has transformed from a local conflict into a long‑term crisis that damages Washington’s reputation in the Global South and polarizes public opinion within the United States itself. European authors increasingly cite American polls that show growing disagreement among a significant share of Americans with unconditional support for the current Israeli course: a majority favor a permanent ceasefire and tying military aid to respect for human rights. (fr.wikipedia.org) French outlets use this as an argument: America is no longer monolithic, and White House foreign policy may increasingly diverge from public sentiment, making it less predictable for allies.

Israeli newspapers and portals focus primarily on how this evolution within the US affects the triangle “Israel — US administration — Jewish diaspora.” Journalist Dan Perry, in his essay on political passivity among American Jews, reminds readers that the Jewish community in the US traditionally avoided direct intervention in Israeli politics, preferring to support Israel as an idea rather than any specific government. Today, he writes, that no longer works: “modern Israel is in desperate defense against dark forces seeking to turn it into an authoritarian theocracy with nuclear weapons,” and American Jews can no longer remain bystanders. (zman.co.il) This internal Jewish‑American discourse is often absent from the American mainstream agenda, but in Israel it is closely read as an indicator of how far the split between the US administration, Congress, the diaspora and Israel itself might go.

Against this background, Israeli observers look with interest and concern at data showing that despite loud headlines about a “crisis” between Israel and American Jewry, real polls show a more complex picture. One analysis in Israel Hayom noted several years ago: the majority of American Jews still either preserve or even strengthen their emotional bond with Israel, and only a minority report a weakening of that feeling. The main problem is not a break but a distorted media discourse that amplifies the sense of a gulf. (israelhayom.co.il) In today’s context of war and increased US military presence in the region this theme is even louder: in Israel American support is seen not only as an “Iron Dome” but also as a mirror of internal American conflicts in which the diaspora finds itself between the liberal agenda of the Democrats and hard security rhetoric.

The third important layer of discussion concerns the broader picture of American global leadership and how it is being reinterpreted in Europe. In Berlin, Paris and other European capitals there is a growing sense that the US is returning to a unilateral “America First” logic, even when official rhetoric insists on commitment to alliances. In Germany one parliamentary analytical note explicitly stated: with the expiration of the last major strategic arms limitation treaty between the US and Russia, Washington is showing readiness to compensate for rising risks not by negotiations but by building up its own military capabilities and pressuring partners to increase defense spending. (steubing.com) In the German view this turns Europe from the “main ally” into an “operational theater” where American strategic tasks are decided.

The French debate takes a somewhat different key. Paris, especially after President Emmanuel Macron’s recent speech at the naval base on Île‑Longue, where he outlined the evolution of French nuclear deterrence, is increasingly articulating the idea of a “European shield” that should not be fully dependent on the whims of American policy. Although the speech was aimed primarily at a domestic and European audience, many French analysts also read it as a veiled response to Washington: if the US increasingly steers its strategic policy toward a harsher, transactional groove, Europe must be ready for a scenario in which American guarantees prove conditional and selective. (fr.wikipedia.org)

Interestingly, the French expert community, when commenting on the new wave of American “military presence” from Europe to the Indo‑Pacific, often debates rather than simply echoes classic left‑wing critics of the US such as Noam Chomsky. Chomsky has argued for decades that Washington’s foreign policy is determined by economic interests and a desire to suppress alternative development models, and French commentators use his arguments more as a starting point than as dogma: today, they write, on top of these economic motives there is also an ideological confrontation with authoritarian powers, which makes the US both a defender of the liberal order and its potential hostage. (fr.wikipedia.org)

The fourth, more specialized but telling, strand of debates is the reaction to American domestic science, technology and medical policy, which appears in foreign press in fragments. In the Israeli professional medical community they still discuss an example from JAMA, whose editorial several years ago questioned the quality of evidence supporting the medical use of marijuana, against the backdrop of a wave of legalization in the US. It noted that more than twenty states and the District of Columbia had passed laws, but the real evidence base for most indications is far from FDA standards. (e-med.co.il) For Israeli physicians and researchers this case is less about cannabis per se than an illustration of how American political and social dynamics can outpace scientific consensus and then be exported to other countries as a “ready‑made model.”

Finally, Israeli and German political columns reveal another, less obvious shared motif: the perception of the US as a state that more actively uses “legal language” to redefine international agreements. A decade ago Iran accused Washington of publishing a “unilateral interpretation” of the Geneva nuclear accord and thus effectively rewriting its content in its favor. (news.walla.co.il) Today, as Washington returns to ultimatum rhetoric and increases military pressure, that experience is recalled as a warning: official texts and US practice can diverge significantly, and allies constantly have to “translate” American statements into the language of their own risks.

In all three countries what dominates is neither anti‑Americanism nor blind faith in Washington, but a complex mix of dependence, irritation and pragmatism. For Germany and France America remains an indispensable element of European security, but is increasingly discussed as a source of instability that forces Europe to think about its own strategic agency. For Israel the US is simultaneously the main shield against regional threats and an unpredictable actor whose internal debates, diasporic conflicts and electoral cycles directly affect the fate of the state.

The common conclusion of these debates, rarely articulated within the United States itself but clearly audible from Berlin, Tel Aviv and Paris, is that the world is no longer ready to live by a logic of “unipolar trust.” America remains the strongest power; its decisions shape the architecture of security and the economy, but other societies are less and less inclined to accept its course as given and increasingly seek ways to insure themselves against American zigzags. And that may be the most important change: the international discussion about America has stopped being a debate “about them” and has become a conversation “about us and our dependence on them.”

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"Epic Fury" and Allies' Anxiety: How Russia, India and Israel View the US War with...

Debates about the role of the United States in the world rarely die down, but the current war in Iran — Operation "Epic Fury," as it is called in American and Israeli military plans, which began on 28 February 2026 — is a rare case where the attention of three very different political cultures has focused on nearly the same question: where does "US leadership" end and adventurism begin. Joint US–Israeli strikes on Iranian sites, the killing of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and Tehran's subsequent missile strikes on US bases in the Middle East and on facilities in the Persian Gulf have turned the region into a theater of full-scale war with consequences for energy, security and domestic politics in many countries.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop, Russia, India and Israel view Washington's actions in completely different ways — ranging from accusations of "unprovoked aggression" to a painful but pragmatic understanding that Israel could not withstand the blow without the US, to India's cautious distancing, dominated by the logic of "strategic autonomy" and fear for oil prices.

The central axis of all these conversations is the US–Israel war with Iran itself. In Russian media and expert circles it is presented as a logical continuation of American policy of "coercion" and regime change; in India — as a risk to its oil security and a test of relations with both the US and Iran; in Israel — as an almost existential struggle in which Washington acts as both shield and source of risk.

The Russian lens frames events around the idea of "unprovoked aggression" and Moscow's energy windfall. The first analytical pieces in the business and general‑political press, published in early March, directly link US and Israeli strikes on Iran to rising oil and gas prices and view a protracted conflict as a factor that could support the Russian budget, weakened by sanctions. Izvestia, commenting on Iranian missile and drone strikes on US bases and infrastructure in the region, analyzes "how oil, the ruble and the Moscow Exchange index will react to a prolonged conflict in the Middle East," concluding that a spike in energy prices and a widening discount for Russian oil could, despite the risks, bring additional revenues to the National Wealth Fund and strengthen the ruble.(cdn.iz.ru)

At the same time, the political discourse about the US in Russia combines official harshness with public ambivalence. In the Russian segment of social networks and political Reddit communities, the war is described as another example of the US remaining a "slowly sinking colossus" that nevertheless can still "set" its military forces against Iran, Russia, China and other adversaries. One popular comment in Russian‑language discussion explicitly formulates this duality: yes, the American economy is overloaded with debt and internal contradictions, but it is precisely this that makes Washington resolve foreign‑policy tasks by force — "when needed, they'll set them against China, Iran, the RF and others."(reddit.com)

Particular irritation has been caused by reports in the Western press that Russia is allegedly passing intelligence to Iran for strikes on US forces in the region. According to a Washington Post report, widely circulated in Russian‑language discussions, Moscow has been sharing data with Tehran since late February about the deployment of American ships and aircraft in the Middle East. Russian officials do not publicly confirm this, but in commentary the topic fits an already familiar narrative: if the US drags the world into war, Russia has the right to respond asymmetrically and to push back American influence by other hands.(reddit.com)

This reveals something rarely visible in the American press: for a significant part of the Russian public the image of the US is not just "an enemy" or "leader of the West," but a systemic factor of global instability that simultaneously opens windows of opportunity — from rising commodity prices to the strengthening of informal ties with Iran and China. Russian international‑studies institutes' expert reports emphasize that the current crisis around Iran accelerates the formation of multipolarity and expands the space for Russian‑Indian and Russian‑Chinese cooperation as a counterweight to American pressure.(imemo.ru)

The Israeli perspective is much more contradictory: the US are at once vitally necessary and dangerously unpredictable. For Israeli politicians and analysts the current war is the culmination of years of confrontation with Iran, during which Washington alternately restrained and encouraged forceful measures. The Israeli press describes in detail how the joint US–Israeli operation began with strikes on Iranian nuclear and military facilities, followed by Iranian missile strikes on American bases and sites around Israel, and then by massive Hezbollah attacks in the north of the country.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Against this background, statements by Israel's defense minister that the intensity of strikes on the Iranian regime will be "substantially increased" as early as the fourth week of the war sound both like a demonstration of resolve and as a signal to Washington: Israel expects the US not only to support but to lead this escalation. At the same time, English‑ and Russian‑language Israeli outlets show anxiety about how unpredictably Trump decided to launch the joint operation — without fully notifying allies and even without a clear post‑war strategy. Correspondents from major European newspapers, quoted in the Israeli press, note that Japanese Prime Minister Sané E Takaichi, who was in Washington on 19 March, was presented with the fact of an already begun "the most intensive air campaign in decades" against Iran.(lemonde.fr)

In the Israeli expert field this produces a paradoxical mix: on the one hand, an acknowledgment that only the US can provide air superiority on such a scale — including non‑stealth bomber strikes on targets in Iran, perceived as demonstration of total control of the skies. On the other — an understanding that American unpredictability has pulled Israel into a conflict whose scale now far exceeds the familiar "war between wars." One analytical piece, widely discussed in the Russian‑language Israeli community, sums up: the American‑Israeli strategy against Iran "works" militarily — Iranian missile launches have fallen by about 90%, and the number of drones has dropped tenfold — but the political cost in terms of the risk of direct confrontation with China, strikes on energy facilities in Qatar and a new wave of anti‑Americanism in the region has yet to be calculated.(reddit.com)

Inside Israel a moral debate is growing about the share of US responsibility for the humanitarian consequences of the war. Although Iranian attacks on Israeli cities and bases make any discussions of "proportionality" abstract for a large part of society, liberal commentators increasingly note: when Washington sets the rules of the game and the pace of escalation, the responsibility for the deaths of civilians in Tehran, Isfahan or the Strait of Hormuz also falls on the US. Echoes of earlier debates about America's role in the wars in Gaza and Lebanon can be felt here, but they are now transferred to a clash with a state adversary rather than non‑state actors.

India's lens is entirely different, dominated not by moral‑ideological but by geoeconomic logic. For Delhi, the US is simultaneously a key partner in opposing China and an important market, but India is heavily dependent on energy imports, including from Gulf countries and Iran. In analytical notes from Russian institutes that carefully recount the Indian debate, it is emphasized: the Indian elite is nervous not so much about the war itself as about the threat of the Strait of Hormuz being closed and possible oil price spikes to levels that could hit GDP growth and the balance of payments.(imemo.ru)

Indian commentators draw parallels with the crises of 2019 and 2022, when US–Iran confrontations already led to jumps in Brent and OPEC basket prices. Now, when it is not local incidents but a full‑scale war with strikes on key energy hubs in Qatar and around South Pars, Indian economic columnists speak bluntly: "the American strategy of coercing Iran is paid for by importers, not by Washington."(lemonde.fr)

Against this background, India's foreign‑policy line looks almost demonstratively restrained. Official Delhi limits itself to calls for restraint and continues the line of "strategic autonomy," trying not to take a clear position either with Washington or with Tehran. Indian experts cited in the Russian business press remind that under Trump India was promoted by Washington as a "bulwark against China" and a key partner in the Indo‑Pacific, but American policy unpredictability makes relying solely on the US too risky. Therefore India's strategy is to diversify oil and gas suppliers, deepen ties with Russia and Gulf countries, while at the same time maintaining access to American technologies and markets.(imemo.ru)

This reveals a specific Indian view of the US that often seems "inconsistent" to an American reader: on China and Indo‑Pacific issues India is willing to cooperate closely with Washington; on Iran it distances itself as much as possible, unwilling to pay the price for American objectives in the region. Indian press often phrases it as the US–Iran war being a "foreign war" whose consequences India will nevertheless feel through inflation and fuel shortages.

Despite their differences, these three perspectives intersect in several common motifs. First, all three contain an underlying distrust of American strategic consistency. Russian analysts see the US actions as another wave of aggressive interventionism that undermines the remnants of international law, and use this as an argument in favor of accelerating the formation of a "post‑Western" world. Israeli commentators, even while supporting the aim of neutralizing the Iranian threat, criticize Trump for ignoring allies and lacking a clear "exit" from the war, as the Associated Press explicitly writes, quoting growing questions in the US Congress about "when, how and at what cost" this war will end.(apnews.com)

Second, all three countries link the war to US domestic politics. In the Russian information field a widely circulated version is that Operation "Epic Fury" is a "distraction war" meant to divert attention from scandals involving Trump and his possible ties to "Epstein files"; this interpretation has even made it into English‑language summaries of reactions to the conflict as one of the striking examples of satirical renaming of the war ("Epstein's War," "Operation 'Epstein's Fury'").(ru.wikipedia.org) In Israel liberal columnists also hint that Trump pursues not only strategic but electoral goals. In India the war is viewed as part of a general tendency to use external crises to mobilize domestic support in the US — a tactic familiar to Indian politics as well.

Third, Russia, India and Israel all, in different ways, scrutinize the energy consequences of American decisions. Russian business outlets calculate how much the budget might gain from rising oil and gas prices in the wake of attacks on Gulf infrastructure and transport risks in the Strait of Hormuz.(cdn.iz.ru) Indian newspaper columns, by contrast, are full of alarm: exporters' higher revenues mean higher costs for Delhi and the threat of inflation. Israel, although not as directly dependent on Iranian oil, views American threats to "blow up the entire South Pars gas complex" if Tehran continues to attack Qatar as a step that could destabilize the entire global gas market — with unpredictable consequences for both Israel and Europe.(lemonde.fr)

Finally, there is a motif where positions diverge most sharply: the perception of the US right to use force. For the Israeli mainstream the US presence in the region is — though dangerous — a necessary shield without which fighting Iran would be impossible. For Russia it is further proof that Washington continues to act not from the UN Charter but from a logic of "exceptionalism," which, many Russian analysts say, only accelerates the formation of a coalition that wants to limit that exceptionalism. For India the pragmatic question comes to the fore: can the US, now waging a war in Iran almost without regard to allies, at any moment unilaterally change course toward India if Washington deems it advantageous?

What in the American debate is now reduced to questions of tactics — does the war with Iran need more allies, how to avoid direct confrontation with China, how long will the blockade of Hormuz last — is perceived in Moscow, Delhi and Jerusalem as a symptom of a deeper process: the world after "Epic Fury" will no longer be able to treat American power the same way it did before 28 February 2026. For some it is an opportunity, for others a threat, but for all three countries the US is increasingly becoming not a "stabilizing hegemon" but a factor requiring constant hedging and reassessment of risks. That is what, more than lists of strikes and casualties, is truly being discussed today in Moscow, Delhi and Tel Aviv when they talk about America's new war.

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How the World Argues with America: War with Iran, US Debt and Fear of Empire

In March 2026, discussions about America outside the United States unexpectedly coalesced around an almost unified agenda. In Turkey, France and China the debate is less about Donald Trump or the upcoming Congressional elections than about what American power is turning into after the joint US–Israel strike on Iran on February 28, how much longer the world will pay for American debt, and how long Europe and the Middle East will remain hostages to Washington’s decisions. Against this backdrop, familiar topics — the state of democracy in the United States, culture wars, technological rivalry with China — only underscore the main point: in the eyes of others American power is increasingly associated less with order and more with managed chaos.

The central theme in all three countries has become the US and Israeli war against Iran. Chinese commentators call the operation 史诗怒火 — “Epic Fury” — after the official American code name, and at the same time emphasize: this strike turned the Iranian crisis from a prolonged standoff into an open war, already getting a stable name in Chinese materials as 美以伊战争 — “the US–Israel war with Iran.” (zh.wikipedia.org) Turkish economic and market analysts view the same events through a different prism: a closed Strait of Hormuz, a jump in oil prices, risks for Turkish inflation and the lira exchange rate. (bmd.com.tr) The French debate is less loud so far, but there too the war fits into a broader conception of the US as one of the “resurgent empires” pushing the world into a long period of instability. (reddit.com)

In China the reaction to the war with Iran is most articulated both officially and in the expert community. On the Sina portal a commentary by commentator Jiang Limeng was published under the headline “Why the sudden US and Israeli strike on Iran is ‘unacceptable’.” The author relies on a statement by Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi, who in a phone call with Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov said that “US and Israeli strikes on Iran in the midst of negotiations are unacceptable, the open killing of the leader of a sovereign state and incitement to regime change are unacceptable.” (news.sina.com.cn) In the Chinese view this is not just another US Middle East campaign but a demonstrative rejection by Washington of any norms of international law, a refusal that, analysts stress, repeats the 2025 precedents when US and Israeli air strikes already disrupted negotiations with Tehran. (news.sina.com.cn)

Chinese experts in specialized institutes, such as the Shenzhen Advanced Institute of International Affairs, speak about the war in highly pragmatic terms, through the lens of energy markets and global supply chains. In the review “美以对伊朗发动大规模空袭，引发跨区域反击行动” (“Massive US and Israeli air strikes on Iran provoke cross-regional retaliatory actions”) it is emphasized that the military operation unfolds against the backdrop of US primaries already underway in March, and that the strike is meant “to simultaneously achieve regional influence redistribution and internal mobilization of American society.” (qiia.org) Analysts point out that Washington’s bet is not only on destroying Iran’s defensive infrastructure but, essentially, on regime change, although the experiences of Iraq and Afghanistan show: “America knows how to start wars, but does not know how to finish them.”

In China’s economic and business media the war is also viewed as a blow to China itself. In the piece “美以空袭伊朗影响全球经济 中共损失惨重” (“US and Israeli air strikes on Iran hit the global economy; the CCP suffers heavy losses”) the conclusion is drawn that a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, rising freight rates and oil prices are particularly painful for China as the largest importer of energy resources and as a country whose infrastructure and investment projects in Iran and along the Belt and Road are directly threatened. (aboluowang.com) Therefore official Beijing, on the one hand, strongly condemns the strike as “unacceptable,” and on the other — tries to avoid a full polarization of the conflict around the US–China confrontation.

Interestingly, in Chinese texts the United States is rarely criticized alone: Israel almost always appears alongside it. But it is Washington that is accused of strategic short-sightedness. In one analytical article on the Iran war the author writes that “the US–Israeli bloc destroys trust in diplomacy as a tool for resolving conflicts” and thereby “pushes middle powers — Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Egypt — to develop more autonomous, partly antagonistic strategies toward the United States.” (finance.sina.com.cn) In this logic Beijing essentially positions itself as a moderate arbiter, criticizing the American “empire of force,” while avoiding direct confrontation and at the same time gaining as an anchor of stability for the Global South.

The Turkish public debate about the United States in March looks less ideological but no less sharp. In news and analytical bulletins of major brokerage and investment houses the war with Iran appears in almost every daily market review. In publications by Şeker Yatırım or BMD the war “ABD ve İsrail’in İran’a yönelik saldırıları” (“US and Israeli attacks on Iran”) is described alongside the Central Bank of Turkey’s decision and inflation statistics: as a factor directly affecting the cost of oil, gas supplies and therefore Turkey’s balance of payments and the government’s chances to rein in inflation. (sekeryatirim.com.tr)

These texts reveal a typically Ankara ambivalence toward America. On the one hand Turkey is a NATO member and an important US partner; on the other, every new Middle Eastern war is perceived in Ankara as a blow to Turkey’s regional agenda and as a reminder that Washington remains willing to act while ignoring the interests of middle powers. An investor-focused analysis contains a characteristic formulation: “Nükleer silaha sahip bir İran ABD için…” — “An Iran with nuclear weapons for the US is…,” the author continues explaining that for Washington and Tel Aviv it is an existential threat, but for Turkey it is primarily a regional balance-of-power issue and a risk of a new round of sanctions and turmoil. (bmd.com.tr) The subtext reads: American policy on Iran is again built around its own fears and domestic electoral calculations, rather than around a sustainable security architecture.

Besides the war, Turkey is actively debating the condition of the American economy itself, primarily through the lens of financial markets. An economic columnist Eral Karayazıcı’s piece “2026 Yılında Piyasalar” in Hürriyet’s business supplement speaks about the US with cold calculation: the outcome of America’s midterm elections and the dynamics of US consumer confidence will determine whether the Turkish market has a chance for a strong rally in 2027. The author writes directly that Republicans “need consumer expectations index to rise to 75–80 points by the end of 2026,” reminding readers that such low values as now in the US were previously seen only during the 1979 oil crisis, the 1991 Gulf War, the 2008 mortgage crisis and the COVID‑19 pandemic. (bigpara.hurriyet.com.tr) The Turkish view here is paradoxical: America is criticized for debt expansion and wars, yet is simultaneously seen as the main generator of moods on global markets on which both Ankara and the Istanbul exchange depend.

The French debate about the United States in March 2026 is less concentrated on Iran than the Chinese or Turkish debates, but it is no less ideological. For Paris the key question is not only another Middle Eastern operation, but the kind of world Europe is being drawn into between three “empires” — the United States, China and Russia. In a collective forum piece published in Le Monde back in 2024 and still actively quoted in French discussions, a group of politicians and intellectuals spoke of the formation of an “internationale impériale” — an “imperial international” that includes China, Russia and the United States. According to them, the United States under Donald Trump “is taking the first step toward transforming its federation into an empire,” and Europe finds itself “surrounded by resurgent empires that have no concern for Europeans.” (reddit.com) Today, against the backdrop of the war with Iran, these formulations sound especially relevant: to the French public the United States increasingly appears less as a guarantor of the liberal order and more as one of the actors driven by national interests and ready for coercive pressure.

This connects to narrower topics that trouble French media. First, the trajectory of US debt. Chinese and European sources alike closely cite the IMF’s February assessment that the American deficit, having slightly decreased in 2025 to 5.9% of GDP, will in 2026 again rise to 6.1% and continue to grow to 6.3% by 2028. (world.people.com.cn) For the French and broader European elite this is another sign: America increasingly lives on debt, financing both social obligations and global military presence at the expense of the dollar’s status. Thus the old fear of the “Americanization” of European budgets and policies grows: if Washington can afford a 6% GDP deficit, why does Brussels demand strict austerity from Paris?

Second, in France they are once again reminded of America’s internal contradictions — from book-banning campaigns to polarization on cultural issues. Articles about rising censorship and wars around school libraries, similar to reviews on “interdiction de livres aux États‑Unis” (book bans in the United States), fit into a broader critique: America, which teaches Europe about freedom of speech and liberal values, is itself increasingly sliding into moral panic and politicized control over education. (fr.wikipedia.org) This overlaps with the war debate: when the same country initiates forcible regime change abroad, French leftists and some centrists see not so much a “fight for democracy” as the export of domestic culture war to the external front.

Despite the differences among the three national perspectives, several common themes associated with the United States in current discussions stand out.

First — the transformation of America from the “world’s sheriff” into the “world’s arsonist.” In China this is phrased more carefully, but the essence is the same: the United States is ready to launch military campaigns without clear postwar plans, “边谈边打” — “negotiate while bombing,” destroying the remaining trust in diplomacy. (news.sina.com.cn) In Turkey this is felt through markets: every new Washington decision in the Persian Gulf is another turn of inflation and pressure on weak economies. In France this is seen as another step toward a “new Cold War,” in which Europe risks becoming not an actor but a territory where foreign imperial interests intersect.

Second — US debt as a global risk. Chinese state media emphasize IMF estimates that the American deficit will grow and warn of possible medium‑term consequences for global financial stability. (world.people.com.cn) Turkish economists in business columns remind readers that any sharp correction in the US Treasury market will immediately hit emerging markets, and thus Turkey. In France US debts become a convenient argument for those who criticize Brussels’ “double standards”: Washington is forgiven a 6% GDP deficit, while Paris and Rome are forced into strict fiscal discipline.

Third — America’s internal fragility. Chinese materials on the Iran war already include mentions of an Austin shooting resembling a terror attack that occurred the day after the strikes on Iran, and that the FBI is checking a possible revenge motive linked specifically to the war. (zh.wikipedia.org) The same reports mention disagreements within the US leadership, including the resignation of the head of the National Counterterrorism Center Joe Kent over differences about the Iran war. (zh.wikipedia.org) For Chinese readers this is a signal: even within the United States there is no unity about the chosen course. In French commentary, continuing an old tradition of skepticism toward American “soft power,” researchers and journalists speak of the “marmite américaine” — the American “boiling pot” of racial, class and regional fissures that could one day explode. (reddit.com)

Finally, the fourth theme — a rethinking of the United States’ role as “leader of democracy.” For part of the French elite, especially those close to Jean‑Luc Mélenchon and La France Insoumise, American calls for an “alliance of democracies” look hypocritical against the backdrop of close Western ties with authoritarian Gulf regimes and now — in light of another Middle Eastern war. (reddit.com) Turkish commentators, situated between pragmatism and an anti‑Western reflex, see this not as a question of values but of power: whoever can afford to ignore international law determines what is called “democracy.” In China the public rhetoric is more restrained, but the line is clear: Beijing opposes American “unilateral coercion” with its image of a “responsible great power” advocating negotiations and opposing forcible regime change — even if in reality Chinese policy is far from altruistic.

The most curious thing about all this is that outside the United States people today speak of America primarily not as a “land of freedom” or a “cradle of innovation,” but as a source of risks: military, financial, political. But assessments are not one-dimensional. For Turkey the United States is both the main factor of instability and the key market reference without which planning the future of its own exchange is impossible. For France — both a threat in the form of a “resurgent empire” and still an indispensable security partner. For China — both a strategic rival whose actions undermine the economic order built by Beijing and an inevitable counterpart with whom it is necessary to negotiate to contain chaos.

This ambivalence may be the main diagnosis of the current moment. America has ceased to be an unequivocal symbol of either good or evil. For world opinion it has become a superpower whose decisions are at once necessary and dangerous, without which one still cannot do — but one that is trusted less and less. And each new “Epic Fury,” like the current war with Iran, only widens this gap between necessity and distrust.

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How the World Sees America: Brazil, Israel and India

At the beginning of 2026, the United States once again finds itself at the center of global disputes — but in a different configuration than the familiar “Cold War” or “war on terror.” A sharp increase in American military presence in the Middle East, joint strikes by the US and Israel against Iran, an intervention in Venezuela followed by a political‑economic crisis spiral in Cuba, and Washington’s internal drift toward a tougher, revisionist foreign policy — all of this is being discussed simultaneously in Brazil, Israel and India. Tone, emphases and emotions differ, but the through‑line is the same: the world is rethinking America as a power that no longer pretends to be a “global arbiter” but acts as a hegemon ready to change the rules of the game.

One of the key lines of discussion is the large‑scale buildup of US military presence in the Persian Gulf and the Eastern Mediterranean. In the Brazilian press this is first of all associated with an escalation against Iran. On the Portuguese‑language page “US Attack on Iran” it is noted that since late January Washington has deployed the largest concentration of forces in the region since 2003, and in February–March 2026 carried out a series of strikes on Iranian strategic targets in cooperation with Israel. It is emphasized that even within the American establishment veterans of the foreign‑policy bloc warned the White House about weak political support for potential personnel losses and the questionable sustainability of such a course in the long run, a point referenced by a review of these actions in Politico cited in the Brazilian overview. (pt.wikipedia.org)

Brazilian commentators see this not only as another turn in Middle Eastern drama, but as a signal to the global South. In analytical texts published in left‑leaning regional outlets, US military moves in Iran are put on the same level as pressure on Latin American governments. Thus, in the bilingual India‑and‑Anglo‑oriented but also read in Brazil publication Border News Mirror, where “imperialist” US strategies are discussed, it is argued that such a policy “lays the groundwork for a third world war,” and American interventions are interpreted as a consistent attempt to cement a unipolar world order even at the cost of destroying regional economies. (bordernewsmirror.com)

In Israel the US troop buildup is viewed far more pragmatically — as a rare alignment of interests that gives Jerusalem strategic “umbrella” protection. Analysts at Israeli research centers emphasize that the US and Israel are essentially conducting a “joint war” against Iran’s military and nuclear infrastructure. In the annual assessment of the Jewish people’s situation by the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI), it is noted that a significant portion of the Israeli elite perceives the current American military line as a “historic window of opportunity” to neutralize the Iranian threat and solidify the armed alliance, while within American society fatigue is growing over the role of “defending Israel at any cost.” (jppi.org.il)

From the Israeli perspective, American strikes on Iran and the increased presence in the region are a continuation of a long‑standing strategic dialogue, but at a higher level of risk. In Israeli debates, including on popular discussion platforms, participants acknowledge that Washington could have pursued a more “distanced” approach limited to sanctions and cyber operations; however, the current Trump policy, which, according to one military commentator, “broke the psychological barrier to a direct strike on Tehran,” is seen as decisive, though dangerous. On informal platforms, such as discussions in Israeli online communities, critics of the government’s line ask whether “Israel was drawn into” the US‑Iran conflict, or conversely — whether Jerusalem for years pushed Washington toward the current scenario and now cannot stop itself. (reddit.com)

The Indian view complements this picture from another angle. In the Indian press, especially in English‑language outlets aimed at Hindi readers, the emphasis is on how US policy toward Iran and the Middle East complicates Delhi’s room for maneuver. On one hand, India has traditionally built close ties with Washington along security lines in the Indo‑Pacific; on the other, it remains a major buyer of Iranian oil and cannot ignore potential energy shocks. In several Hindi‑language analytical pieces, the American line is described using the rhetoric of “samrajyavadi neetiyan” — imperialist policies that subordinate the interests of third countries, including India, to Washington’s strategic game. (bordernewsmirror.com)

The second major theme uniting discussions in Brazil, Israel and India is US interventions in Latin America, primarily in Venezuela, and the subsequent crisis spiral in Cuba. Portuguese‑language overviews relied upon by Brazilian columnists recount the chronology in detail: on January 3, 2026, after US military intervention President Nicolás Maduro was deposed, shipments of Venezuelan oil to Cuba were blocked, and the US administration openly declared its intention to achieve regime change on the island by the end of the year. (pt.wikipedia.org)

In Brazil this evokes painful historical associations. Columnists in leading newspapers and portals recall the long history of Washington’s interventions in the region — from support for coups during the “Cold War” to pressure on the governments of Cuba, Nicaragua, Bolivia and Brazil itself in the 2000s. In these texts the intervention in Venezuela is seen as the culmination of a “Monroe Doctrine 2.0,” in which Latin America once again becomes the US “backyard.” In center‑left outlets analysts write that the current White House course undermines Brazil’s efforts to build its own mechanisms of regional integration and mediation; moreover, it provokes a new wave of polarization within Brazil itself: right‑wing forces tend to welcome Maduro’s fall as the “end of the narco‑regime,” while the left sees it as a step toward the militarization of the entire region. (shakuf.co.il)

From the Israeli viewpoint the Venezuela‑Cuba episode is interesting in a different way: it fits into a broader picture of a “revisionist” America. In one recent analytic report in Hebrew, the US is described as a “revisionist autocratic hegemon,” whose internal drift toward autocracy finds a “mirror image” in its foreign policy. The report’s authors particularly note that the operation to capture Maduro is seen as part of a broader pattern: from hard pressure on NATO allies to a demonstrative willingness by Washington to revise previous agreements if they do not fit the administration’s current interests. (debugliesintel.com)

Indian commentators, especially in left‑leaning and national‑patriotic circles, react to events in Venezuela and Cuba with caution but without Brazil’s emotional involvement. In Indian analyses this is primarily an example of “extraterritorial use of force” that, they argue, could one day be turned against any country that violates Washington’s unwritten “red lines.” Pragmatically minded commentators emphasize that India, facing its own challenges with neighbors China and Pakistan, has an objective interest in keeping the US strong and active enough to contain Beijing, and therefore cannot afford to openly oppose Washington’s course in Latin America.

The third through‑line is the perception of the United States’ internal transformation and Donald Trump’s return to power in the context of foreign policy. In Israel this topic is covered in both scholarly and popular texts. In one recent Hebrew collection, the American system is described as “liberal only in form”: researchers, citing American comparative‑political works, argue that by the 2020s the US had effectively approached the type of “illiberal democracy” with weakened checks and balances, and after Trump’s return the course toward concentration of power and attacks on independent institutions only intensified. A report published in early 2026 in Hebrew notes that the US transition to a more autocratic model of governance is accompanied by an aggressive foreign policy in which strikes on Venezuela, pressure on Cuba and threats against Iran become a single, consistent project. (shakuf.co.il)

In Brazil this same turn in the US reminds many of Jair Bolsonaro’s rule — with its clashes with the Supreme Court, attacks on the media and radicalization of the electorate. Brazilian analytical pieces increasingly draw parallels between the MAGA movement in the US and Bolsonarism. Brazilian commentators write that Trump‑2026’s rise is closer in spirit not to classic Republicans or neoconservatives but to right‑wing populist leaders of the Global South who combine nationalism, religious conservatism and economic protectionism. In this vein, Washington’s foreign policy — strikes, sanctions, threats — is seen as a continuation of the internal logic of “us versus them” exported to the global level.

In the Indian discussion the theme of America’s internal transformation is colored more pragmatically. For some Indian commentators the US example is a warning: even a mature democracy can quickly slide into institutional erosion if the combination of a charismatic leader, a polarized media space and social networks overlays real economic and cultural fears. But for another segment of the elite something else matters more: even an “illiberal” America remains India’s most important external partner. Hence the dual rhetoric: criticizing Washington’s “imperialism” and “double standards” in semi‑official texts, New Delhi at the same time expands military and technological cooperation with the US, seeing it as a counterweight to China.

A special dimension of debates about the US is the reaction to American involvement in the war against Iran and its regional consequences. In Israel military cooperation with the US in strikes on Iranian targets is described as a historic achievement. In public speeches and leaks from the military command it is stressed that joint operations “neutralized and destroyed over sixty percent of ballistic missile launchers,” presented as “a significant achievement that saved many lives on the home front.” Against this rhetoric, Israeli expert circles discuss a longer‑term question: is Israel becoming a “frontline state” of American strategy, whose maneuverability increasingly depends on the political weather in Washington. (reddit.com)

In Brazil the same war looks entirely different. Leftist and pacifist circles perceive US and Israeli strikes on Iran as another “unsanctioned” act of force leading to destabilization of the global economy and rising oil prices, which directly hits Brazilian consumers. At the same time Brazil watches diaspora reactions closely: Portuguese‑language articles recount how the Iranian diaspora in various countries responds to US and Israeli strikes — sometimes with protests, elsewhere with rallies of approval and hopes for the regime’s fall. These stories become part of a broader Brazilian debate about the right of external powers to intervene in the internal affairs of authoritarian states under the banner of defending human rights or fighting terrorism. (pt.wikipedia.org)

Indian authors, especially in strategic and defense outlets, view the war on Iran through the prism of the balance of power in Eurasia. For them the US and Israeli strikes are not only an episode in confronting a particular regime but part of a larger puzzle: how will the balance between the US, Russia, China and regional powers change, and what will that mean for India’s interests. Articles contain a creeping anxiety: each new escalation caused by the US reorients Washington’s attention and resources from the Indo‑Pacific to the Middle East, making American involvement in containing China less predictable.

Finally, another important motif is perceiving the US as a source not only of power but of instability in the world system. In the aforementioned Israeli report on the “transformation of the United States into a revisionist autocratic hegemon” it is argued that trust in American leadership has noticeably declined among NATO allies and partners in other regions: polls in NATO countries record a sharp drop in support for the US role as a global leader. This thesis is picked up in Latin America and in Asia, where the idea increasingly sounds: when the hegemon itself becomes a source of uncertainty, middle powers are forced to diversify their foreign‑policy anchors. (debugliesintel.com)

Brazilian authors therefore increasingly write about the need to strengthen regional cooperation institutions — from a renewed UNASUR to an alliance with Mexico and Argentina — as “insurance” against Washington’s caprices. Israeli analysts, by contrast, discuss how to embed themselves in the new, tougher American strategy in ways that minimize dependency on US domestic politics while simultaneously building ties with Europe and rising Asian powers. Indian commentators talk about “multilateral multivectorism”: New Delhi seeks to play on several boards at once — cooperate with the US, not alienate Russia, contain China and at the same time maintain its image as a leader of the global South.

Viewed from Washington, it may seem that the world merely reacts to American impulses. But texts from Brazil, Israel and India show a different angle: each of these countries uses America’s turn to force as a mirror for their own debates about democracy, sovereignty and the role of force in foreign policy. In Brazil US interventions provoke fierce disputes about where Brazilian democracy should move after Bolsonaro and whether Latin America can ever truly free itself from the American shadow. In Israel internal polarization and the war with Iran are closely intertwined with the question of how far the country is willing to go with the “new America” and whether it will retain room for independent decisions. In India the discussion about the US is essentially a debate about what India’s role in the world should be when the great hegemon increasingly resembles not a “bulwark of liberal order” but a lone player pursuing its objectives without much regard for consequences.

Thus, at the start of 2026 the United States appears in the international mirror both as an engine and as a symptom of global instability. And it is in texts written not in Washington or London but in São Paulo, Tel Aviv and Delhi that one can best see how profoundly not only American policy but the perception of America itself has changed — from an idealized “city on a hill” to a complex, contradictory, often frightening, yet still indispensable actor on the world stage.

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How the World Argues with America: Venezuela, Tariffs and the "Killing Line"

Around the United States a dense belt of disputes and emotions has formed again, and this time the picture is especially telling when viewed from Riyadh, Brasília and Beijing. In the foreground are the January U.S. strike on Venezuela and the arrest of Nicolás Maduro, which many abroad view as a precedent of Washington’s "selective intervention"; the ongoing tariff conflict with Brazil, where Trump is using economic pressure in support of Jair Bolsonaro; and in China — a whole wave of publications about poverty in America and the so‑called "killing line," turned into a symbol of the "cruelty" of American capitalism. Running through all these stories is the same thread: how legitimate is the U.S. right to set the rules of the global game, and where does defending "democracy" end and naked force begin.

The most resonant event of recent weeks outside the U.S. was the 2026 operation against Venezuela. In early January U.S. forces struck targets in that country and then announced the detention of President Nicolás Maduro, whom some Western media openly called a "dictator." The U.S. official justification relied on claims of human rights violations and threats to regional security, but in international reaction another motive sounded much louder — violation of sovereignty and a dangerous return to the logic of "regime change." In China the narrative was built exactly this way. In the People’s Daily (Renmin Ribao) the diplomatic section devoted a separate spread to the strike on Venezuela: the paper stressed that "the international community firmly condemns the U.S. military action against Venezuela," and an official spokesperson for the Chinese Foreign Ministry said that U.S. actions "grossly violate international law and the UN Charter" and "undermine regional stability" (paper.people.com.cn). It is notable that in the Chinese discourse the Venezuelan case was immediately placed in a broader series: Iraq, Libya, Syria — and now Caracas. Analyst Lyu Yang of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences commented in the newspaper that "the U.S. military action will lead to further political turbulence in the region and deepen distrust of unilateral military interventions," effectively accusing Washington of once again placing its tactical advantage above long‑term order.

In Saudi Arabia the tone is less sharp, but unease is also evident. Major Saudi newspapers such as Asharq Al-Awsat and Al Riyadh emphasize in their international reviews the risk of "exported instability" — every new American strike against a regime Washington deems illegitimate can trigger a chain reaction of crises that inevitably draws in the Persian Gulf region, whether through the oil market or maritime security. Saudi commentators draw parallels with the 2003 Iraq campaign, noting that in both cases U.S. official rhetoric is full of references to "liberating the people," but the practical result for the region is increased chaos and polarization. In the Arab media space a harsher tone also appears — in independent and pan‑Arab outlets the military strike on Venezuela is framed within a narrative of "double standards": Washington readily uses force against states "outside its camp," while conspicuously lenient toward allies even when they systematically violate human rights.

A very particular layer of the debate about the U.S. is now forming in China around the phenomenon of the so‑called "killing line" — a term denoting an income or social status threshold below which, some Chinese commentators argue, the American system effectively "cuts off" people from a normal life. Chinese state and semi‑official media in early 2026 actively circulated materials that examined poverty in the U.S., inequality and the vulnerability of lower strata in detail. The Chinese section of Wikipedia already records this phenomenon as part of a campaign criticizing "American poverty," emphasizing that state outlets use the theme of the "killing line" to show the chaos and cruelty of American capitalism in contrast with the Chinese model, where the state, it is claimed, assumes the role of guaranteeing a minimum level of welfare (zh.wikipedia.org). In an interview with Singapore’s Lianhe Zaobao, Chinese commentator Xu Quan noted that this criticism is not actually new: decades ago China mocked "California’s homeless" and "Black ghettos" in the U.S., but now the story is packaged more technologically and analytically — with charts, citations of American studies and expert commentary.

Interestingly, the intense Chinese focus on U.S. social weakness is accompanied by a subtler domestic agenda. In an article by Chinese journalist Yuan Li in the New York Times (the translation of which was widely cited in the Chinese segment) it was argued that the Chinese propaganda machine "pumps up" the topic of American poverty to distract attention from its own economic difficulties — slowing growth, youth unemployment and problems in the real estate market. Chinese official media naturally omit this motive, but U.S. criticism here functions as a kind of internal pressure valve: by showing chaos and destitution in America, authorities demonstrate that despite all difficulties, "we are still better off than them."

In Brazil, in recent months America has been perceived primarily through the lens of a tariff cudgel. The 2025 diplomatic crisis, when President Trump announced 50‑percent tariffs on all Brazilian goods, still sets the tone of discussions. That decision was presented by the White House as a response to a "witch hunt" against Jair Bolsonaro and an alleged trade imbalance, although statistics showed that the U.S. actually had a trade surplus with Brazil in 2024 (pt.wikipedia.org). The Brazilian press has not forgotten this episode. In analytical columns in Folha de S. Paulo and O Globo, America is described as a country where foreign economic policy easily becomes an extension of domestic ideological struggle: support for Bolsonaro and pressure on the Supreme Federal Court (STF) in the form of reposts from the U.S. embassy sympathetic to the former president are perceived as "direct interference" in Brazilian democracy. One well‑known center‑left commentator noted that "Washington no longer pretends to be a neutral arbiter in Latin American disputes; it picks a side — and, as a rule, it’s the local right."

The conservative camp in Brazil, by contrast, often welcomes a tough U.S. course, seeing it as a counterweight to the "activism" of the STF and human rights organizations. For part of Bolsonaro’s electorate, Trump remains a figure who legitimizes the idea that international support for right‑wing populism is not a marginal trend but a new norm. However, even among moderate conservatives there is irritation at the economic dimension: 50‑percent tariffs are seen as a blow to Brazilian agribusiness and industry, not just a message to elites. In this sense the Brazilian discussion about the U.S. takes on a purely pragmatic tint: America can be a desirable partner in security and technology, but its current political volatility and propensity for "punitive tariffs" make any long‑term cooperation plans risky.

The Saudi perspective on American tariff and sanction tools is also informed by recent experience, but it is phrased more cautiously. In the economic sections of Saudi newspapers, commentators regularly remind readers that dependence on the dollar system and energy markets controlled by the U.S. remains a key vulnerability for Gulf countries. When discussing Washington’s steps against Venezuela or other "disobedient" states, Saudi analysts write about the "politicization" of the dollar and sanctions and concurrently welcome efforts to diversify partners — from China to BRICS countries. Riyadh’s official line is not to provoke a direct confrontation with Washington, but to use U.S. mistakes as an argument in favor of a more balanced multipolar architecture in which the U.S. is still important, but no longer indispensable.

One of the most curious and little‑noticed lines of debate about the U.S. outside China has been the question of its "lost moral authority" on human rights. Chinese official comments on the strike on Venezuela and a number of other U.S. actions follow a clear pattern: first — condemnation as a "violation of international law," then — a reminder of the U.S.’s internal problems, from racism to poverty, and finally the conclusion that America "has no right" to lecture others. In a January review in a Chinese theoretical journal it was plainly stated that "the U.S., shaken by internal conflicts and economic difficulties, continues to use the rhetoric of human rights as a tool of geopolitical pressure, but this rhetoric convinces even its allies less and less" (paper.people.com.cn). The author not only criticizes the U.S. but also offers a pragmatic conclusion: it is more advantageous for China to rely not on abstract "anti‑American" rhetoric but on demonstrating its own effectiveness — growth, infrastructure, social stability — as an alternative model of modernization.

In Brazil the theme of U.S. moral authority sounds different — through comparisons of judicial and political practices. Publications about the conflict around the STF and the interference of American actors in support of Bolsonaro often draw parallels between American debates about the rule of law after the Capitol riot and Brazil’s fight against disinformation and anti‑democratic agitation. One piece cited by Wikipedia in the article on the 2025 crisis analyzed a Washington Post column about Alexandre de Moraes — the STF judge who became a symbol of the fight against Bolsonarist radicalism. For Brazilian readers it is particularly telling that part of the American press sides with the court, while part of the American political establishment, including Trump, attacks those same judges but on Brazilian soil (pt.wikipedia.org). As a result, in Brazilian popular psychology the U.S. appears less as a "beacon of democracy" and more as a field of its own bitter struggle, whose actors export their conflicts to South America.

In the Arab world the moral status of the U.S. was long since undermined by the wars in the Middle East, and today’s conversation about Venezuela is perceived through the same filter. In Arab online discussions the strike on Caracas is often linked to the simultaneous escalation around Iran and to the merging of American and Israeli strategies. In one popular Arab Reddit thread devoted to "American‑Zionist aggression against Iran," the author stressed that any new U.S. military action in the South American direction automatically increases pressure on the "axis of resistance" and can be used as part of a broader strategy to isolate Iran and its allies (reddit.com). This is not an official Saudi position, but such narratives circulate widely across the Arab public space and shape perceptions of Washington’s actions more broadly.

Putting these disparate voices together reveals several intersecting storylines. First, U.S. military power — from Venezuela to hypothetical scenarios involving Iran — is viewed with growing caution, even where official governments prefer not to enter into direct confrontation with Washington. China, Saudi analysts and Brazilian commentators, each from their own interests, emphasize that unilateral use of force and the "politicization" of sanctions undermine trust in the U.S. as a predictable actor. Second, economic instruments of pressure — tariffs on Brazil, sanctions and dollar dependence — are becoming strong arguments for Global South countries to diversify partners and strengthen regional blocs, from BRICS to their own currency initiatives. Third, the U.S.’s internal social and political turbulence — from poverty and the "killing line" in Chinese narratives to the aftermath of the Capitol riot in Brazilian accounts — is increasingly used as evidence that Washington no longer holds a monopoly on the language of "human rights" and "democracy."

Finally, in these external reactions we see what is often missing from the American debate itself: a deep mistrust of the idea that the U.S. can simultaneously be the umpire, the prosecutor and the executioner on the global stage. Saudi strategists prefer to speak of a "balance of power" and "multipolarity," Chinese theorists discuss a "new type of international relations" and "common development," and Brazilian publicists speak of the "sovereignty of the Global South" and Latin America’s right not to be an appendage to other nations’ internal political wars. In each case America remains a central figure in the conversation — but increasingly less as a model to emulate and more as a problem that must be skillfully constrained and outplayed. Perhaps this is the main change in international perceptions of the U.S. making itself visible today from Riyadh, Brasília and Beijing.

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How the World Argues with America: Hormuz, Tariffs and Trust

In March 2026, discussion of America in the foreign press almost automatically boils down to two narratives: the war around Iran and the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz on one hand, and the Trump administration’s global tariff war on the other. Casting shadows over them are long‑standing disputes about human rights and double standards, which in India flared up anew after Washington’s recent recommendation to sanction Indian intelligence. The general backdrop is growing distrust in the U.S. ability to act “responsibly” and predictably, even as none of the three countries — India, Australia and France — are ready to write off Washington as a key military and economic actor.

The first knot of tension is the war in Iran and the associated crisis in the Strait of Hormuz. It was the U.S., together with Israel, that struck Iranian targets and began escorting tankers, after which Tehran announced the closure of the strait to American, Israeli and “Western allied” vessels. Traffic through Hormuz collapsed from more than 140 ships a day to a handful, instantly affecting oil prices and marine insurance.(fr.wikipedia.org)

In the French debate this crisis is described through the prism of systemic risks to the global economy and Europe’s excessive dependence on American military initiative. French publications analyze in detail how a blockade of Hormuz and U.S. strikes on the Iranian navy create a “perfect storm” in the energy market: a quarter of the world’s seaborne oil supplies are at risk, insurers have suspended coverage for war risks, and the Energy Agency was forced to announce an unprecedented release of hundreds of millions of barrels from member states’ strategic reserves.(fatshimetrie.org) Reports from Brussels and Geneva emphasize that Washington effectively presented allies with a fait accompli: first military escalation, then the expectation that Europeans will make up for the consequences in the energy market and the strait.

President Emmanuel Macron, announcing the joining of French ships to the escort mission through Hormuz as part of the European operation Aspides, repeatedly stresses its “primarily defensive and supportive” character.(fr.wikipedia.org) This wording frames the dispute with Washington: Paris does not want to appear as a junior partner in an American war, but it also cannot ignore the threat to freedom of navigation. French commentators draw parallels with the 2003 Iraq war: the U.S. is again acting with a “fait accompli strategy,” involving allies at the stage of managing consequences.

The Indian conversation about American involvement in the war around Iran is even more tense — and personalized. For Delhi, the Hormuz crisis and the U.S. operation against the Iranian navy are not abstract geopolitics but direct interference in its own “backyard.” The sinking of the Iranian frigate IRIS Dena became a symbol: the Americans sank the ship after it had participated in naval exercises hospitably organized by India in the Indian Ocean and had departed from American forces in peaceful circumstances.(en.wikipedia.org)

In the Indian press this is described as a diplomatic humiliation. Prominent strategic analyst Brahma Chellaney called the sinking of Dena “a strategic disgrace” for India: in his view, Washington turned India’s maritime “backyard” into a combat zone, calling into question Delhi’s role as a responsible security guarantor in the Indian Ocean. Former navy chief Admiral Arun Prakash was even sharper: he said the U.S. showed “some form of betrayal,” participating “hand in hand” with Iranian sailors in the Indian exercise and then sinking their ship immediately after it left the Indian port, although they could have postponed the operation “to spare India this humiliation.”(en.wikipedia.org) For many Indian commentators this is not just an episode of the Iranian conflict but a symptom that Washington views India as a venue for its disputes rather than as an equal strategist.

In Australia the same Iranian crisis is discussed differently: through the lens of alliance obligations and the risk of being dragged into someone else’s war. Canberra has acknowledged that Australian military personnel were present on board the American submarine that sank IRIS Dena — this raises questions among local analysts about the transparency of decision‑making and how deeply the country is already involved in a war that has not been formally declared.(en.wikipedia.org) For an Australian audience this is another reminder: betting on strategic closeness with the U.S. and the AUKUS project means participating in operations initiated in Washington, sometimes without a full public mandate.

The second major theme is U.S. tariff policy and the effective dismantling of a century‑old free trade architecture. For Australia and India this is both an economic blow and a political test of sovereignty, while France sees American protectionism as a symptom of a deep shift in the global order.

In Australia the discussion centers not only on the “baseline” 10 percent tariff on all goods imported into the U.S. introduced in 2025, but also its recent rise to 15 percent.(australianonlinenews.com.au) Canberra officially stresses that compared with China, Vietnam or even Japan, Australian exports still occupy a privileged position — tariff rates for those countries are much higher. But economists and columnists remind readers: in the structure of the Australian economy the U.S. is one of the key markets for meat, metals and high‑tech goods, and any tariff increase will inevitably hit farmers and industry. One Australian analyst told local media: if Australia was once a kind of “special partner” of the U.S. in free trade, it is now merely one of the countries on the general list of payers of the American global “import tax.”

Australian foreign policy thought does not reduce everything to numbers. Centrist and left‑liberal commentators see Trump’s tariff policy as part of a broader trend — Washington’s abandonment of the role as architect of an open global economy. Economists warn that tariff escalation on China and dozens of other countries undermines Asian production and logistics chains, and Australia, deeply integrated into regional trade, is “not insulated” from the negative consequences even if its own rate seems moderate.(theguardian.com) Against this backdrop voices demanding greater economic independence from the U.S. and market diversification grow louder in the national discourse, even while military alliance is maintained.

In France the American tariff war is woven into a broader debate about “the end of American hegemony.” It’s not only about a specific 10 or 15 percent rate, but about symbolism: a country that for decades promoted liberalization and the WTO is now causing a global trade shock. European business press widely cites Mark Carney’s speech in Davos, in which he — without naming the U.S. directly but quite transparently — criticized trade wars and even territorial ambitions as threats to global stability.(en.wikipedia.org) For French and European economists this confirms that the “exceptional American status” in the world order is being exhausted, and the EU must build greater autonomy in both trade and finance.

In India U.S. protectionism has overlapped with an existing crisis in bilateral relations in 2025–2026, when the U.S. imposed harsh tariffs on Indian exports tied to Russia’s oil purchases and Delhi’s position on the conflict with Moscow.(en.wikipedia.org) Indian commentators talk about the “worst crisis in two decades” in relations and ask to what extent Washington truly sees India as a partner rather than as a lever of pressure on China and Russia. In Indian English‑language media and popular forums there is an emotional surge: accusations that India is being turned into an “American vassal state without the benefits of vassalage” to statements that the U.S. “uses countries while they are useful and then discards them.”(reddit.com) Even proponents of strategic closeness with Washington more often stipulate: India must not let the U.S. “make India a second China” — a rival that will later be systematically squeezed.(reddit.com)

The third line of dispute with America is human rights and intervention in internal affairs. For France this is a familiar theme, often coupled with criticism of Europe’s own double standards. But in India it took on a sharply confrontational character after the March report by the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom recommending targeted sanctions against India’s external intelligence agency R&AW for alleged violations and persecution of religious minorities.(en.wikipedia.org)

The Indian government reacted extremely strongly: a Foreign Ministry spokesperson called the report “biased” and “politically motivated,” stressing that such assessments do not reflect India’s true diversity and democratic character. On the pages of the conservative press in New Delhi the Commission’s report was compared to “Hollywood fiction” and “propaganda surpassing Goebbels.”(en.wikipedia.org) At the same time Indian security services carried out a series of operations that resulted in the arrest in several cities of U.S. and Ukrainian citizens accused of espionage and financing terrorism in northeastern regions. In the Indian discourse this is presented as a “counter‑blow” against Western structures that, in Delhi’s view, interfere in internal affairs under the cover of human rights rhetoric.

Against this background skepticism grows in India’s expert community: how seriously does Washington take India as an equal democratic partner if it is ready to openly question its institutions while simultaneously using its markets and geopolitical weight? Some commentators recall that the U.S. not long ago called the Indo‑Pacific partnership the “cornerstone” of its strategy, while others bitterly note that “the real test of friendship comes with sanctions, not just joint summits and laudatory speeches.”(reddit.com)

Finally, in all three countries discussion is growing — sometimes directly, sometimes between the lines — about trust in American leadership. In Australia this is reflected in polls showing a majority of the population considers Trump’s re‑election “bad news for the world,” and the share of those who believe the U.S. can “act responsibly on the world stage” has sharply fallen compared to a decade ago.(en.wikipedia.org) Australian experts emphasize a paradox: 80% of respondents still see the alliance with the U.S. as the foundation of national security, but only a minority trust specific American policies — especially on trade and climate.

In France skepticism has a different character. The country has long been accustomed to the idea of America as an “empire prone to unilateral action,” but the current combination of trade wars, territorial ambitions and military escalations around Iran is seen as a new phase.(lepoint.fr) French commentators speak of the “erosion of the moral authority” of the U.S.: a country whose own sanctions and strikes on Iran have destabilized the Middle Eastern economy for decades now calls on others to save the oil market and protect shipping. Some see hypocrisy in this, others simply the consequence of Washington no longer being able to unilaterally finance global stability and delegating risks to allies.

The Indian conversation about trust is even more contradictory. On the one hand, Indian leaders like to emphasize a historic chance: a close alliance between the world’s two largest democracies is supposedly capable of ensuring a “peaceful and prosperous 21st century,” as the U.S. vice‑president said while speaking in Jaipur.(reddit.com) On the other hand, every new American sanction initiative, every episode like the sinking of IRIS Dena off India’s coast, fuels fears that “partnership” for Washington primarily means unilateral steps and an expectation that Delhi will adapt.

A unifying motif in all three countries is fatigue with American unpredictability and, at the same time, an unwillingness to break with the U.S. France seeks to turn discontent into a push for European strategic autonomy, while still sending ships into Hormuz, effectively insuring the consequences of Washington’s decisions. Australia criticizes Trump’s tariffs and doubts his leadership qualities, but continues to deepen military cooperation, participating even in risky operations such as the attack on the Iranian frigate. India loudly objects to sanction threats and religious reports from American commissions, but remains engaged in joint summits and high‑technology trade talks, from GPUs to civil nuclear energy.(reddit.com)

That is the main, not always obvious feature from Washington’s perspective of the current moment: the world criticizes America more harshly than at any time in recent decades, but so far does not see a real alternative to its role in security, technology and finance. Indian, Australian and French voices converge on one thing: if the U.S. does not learn to align power with predictability and respect for partners’ interests, the question will no longer be how great American influence is, but how many countries will actively begin to build a world “after America” — and do so without looking back.

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Isolation of the US and Israel amid the Iran conflict

Recent reports in German and Russian media paint a picture of growing dissatisfaction with US policy, which together with Israel finds itself in an increasingly difficult and unpopular confrontation with Iran. The pieces highlight Donald Trump’s irritation with wavering NATO partners, allies’ reassessment of their positions in the Persian Gulf, and the worsening of domestic political crises in Washington — up to the resignation of a prominent intelligence community representative on Iran. European leaders, these reports say, are increasingly criticizing and condemning the administration’s actions, and in some cases allies face a choice between supporting the US and protecting their own interests, creating an impression of stagnation or a loss of American leadership in the conflict. The material is based on BR (Germany) coverage.

Germany and the Iran war: distance, concern and lessons of the past

Bayerischer Rundfunk’s reporting on a war between the US, Israel and Iran is presented in the format of a news ticker on br.de, but in essence provides a coherent, characteristically German view of the escalation. Through dry updates, quotes and links a clear line emerges: Germany seeks to keep the maximum distance from direct participation, viewing events primarily through the lens of European security, global stability and its own historical lessons.

From the very beginning the ticker stresses: Berlin does not want to and will not go to war. By recounting Donald Trump’s statements it conveys Germany’s position, which, according to the former US president, supposedly declared that it “has nothing to do with the Iran war and therefore does not want to participate.” In the same logic another Trump remark is quoted: the elimination of part of Iran’s leadership was “something great” (“etwas Großartiges getan”), yet the German side takes no step toward its own military involvement.

This duality is typically German: rhetorically and politically Germany stands with the US and Israel, unequivocally condemning the Iranian regime and its weapons programs. But in practical terms Berlin is extremely cautious about the use of military force, especially outside a UN mandate and without broad European backing. That is why the ticker repeatedly conveys the theme of maintaining distance: Germany is an ally, but not a participant in the war.

The choice of topics and emphases illustrates a classic set of German concerns. The ticker quotes UN warnings in detail: if the war continues until June, the number of people at risk of hunger could rise by another 45 million. Attention is also focused on the possible closure or destabilization of shipping through the Strait of Hormuz — a key artery for global supplies of oil and gas, on which the German economy is indirectly dependent. Bayerischer Rundfunk presents the Hormuz threat not as a narrowly national energy issue for Germany, but as a factor of global instability affecting world prices, trade and the overall state of international security.

Running through the whole narrative is fear of further destabilization of the Near and Middle East: a new wave of conflicts, the strengthening of Shiite and Sunni groups, the involvement of Hezbollah, fighting near Bushehr, strikes on targets in Iraq — all of this is offered to the reader as the outline of a possible major regional catastrophe that could resonate in Europe as increased migration pressure, intensified terrorism and new internal upheavals.

Notably, among German figures in the ticker there is essentially only one direct, extended quote — from CDU politician Johann Wadephul. Bayerischer Rundfunk names him “foreign minister” in the piece, although de facto he is an influential foreign policy voice of the opposition union. Nevertheless his position is reflected fairly fully and becomes a kind of concentrate of the German approach. Wadephul says: “I do not believe that [regime change in Iran] will happen.” According to him, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio (in the ticker he appears as Außenminister) assured that the goal of the strikes is to destroy Iran’s nuclear and missile programs to remove the threat to Israel. Controlled regime change, Wadephul emphasizes, is in any case “unrealistic,” and chaos in Iran is “not in Europe’s interest.”

In that short formula — “chaos in Iran is not in Europe’s interest” — there is a whole layer of German and European lessons from Iraq and Libya. In Berlin distrust of the “regime change” strategy, traditionally associated with the US, has long taken root. The German, and more broadly European, approach increasingly proceeds not from the idea of rapid democratization of authoritarian regimes but from a priority of managed stability: collapsing states, “failed states,” are seen as sources of terrorism, uncontrolled migration, arms smuggling and nuclear risks. By speaking of “European interests,” Wadephul is effectively voicing not abstract values but very practical tasks: to prevent a new flow of refugees, stop the spread of weapons of mass destruction, curb energy price hikes and preserve predictability in the EU’s immediate external periphery.

The fact that Bayerischer Rundfunk highlights this quote and in this expanded form shows how deeply rooted in the German consciousness is the thought: better a bad but functioning state apparatus in Tehran than another version of post-Gaddafi Libya or post-Saddam Iraq. BR’s reporting noticeably contains fewer romantic expectations of a quick transition to democracy and far more fear of chaos and a power vacuum.

Between the lines of the ticker one can also see tensions within NATO, especially between Washington and Berlin. Donald Trump is mentioned as a loud, irritated critic of allies, primarily Germany, which refuse to participate in the military defense of the Strait of Hormuz. He calls NATO’s position “quite shocking” and says the alliance is making a “very stupid mistake” by not taking more active involvement. From the German perspective this scene is familiar: the United States again demands a larger military contribution, while Berlin appeals to legal constraints, public opinion, the need for a UN mandate, and domestic disputes over the 2-percent defense spending target.

Thus the BR ticker places the Iran war into a broader and long-running German debate about “Bundesfähigkeit” — Germany’s ability to be a “reliable ally.” The central question of this debate is: how far is the country willing to go with the US in operations that do not look like a direct defensive response to an attack and are not sanctioned by multilateral institutions. In BR’s reporting there is a sense that public and political majorities still lean toward a limited, cautious role: diplomacy, sanctions, participation in missions under EU or UN auspices — yes; direct involvement in another Middle Eastern war initiated by Washington — no.

Another important layer is the economic and humanitarian consequences of the conflict, which Bayerischer Rundfunk emphasizes. The ticker cites warnings from UN agencies that if the war drags on at least until June, the number of people acutely in need of food assistance could increase by roughly 45 million. In the German context this is presented not as a statistic “somewhere far away” but as part of a large chain of crises in which Germany and the EU long position themselves as donors, mediators and supporters of multilateral governance. The connection between military actions, disruptions to trade and logistics chains, rising food and fuel prices, and then the exacerbation of political instability and migration waves is underscored.

At the same time the reporting style remains characteristically German: a dry, almost bureaucratic ticker tone, abundant references to international organizations, and an absence of highly colored vocabulary create an atmosphere of distance and self-control. Unlike many American or Israeli war pieces, which contain emotionally charged, patriotic or heroic elements, the BR report has neither pathos nor calls for a “hard response” or “fighting absolute evil.” The risks of escalation, the humanitarian dimension, legal and political frameworks, and the views of various states — from France and Canada to Turkey, whose accusations against Israel of “political killings” and targeted eliminations are conveyed without an explicit judgment but with an obvious hint that the legality of such actions remains an open question — are brought to the fore.

BR does not explicitly voice the historical parallels that suggest themselves, but the German reader easily fills them in. Memories of Gerhard Schröder’s refusal to participate in the Iraq War in 2003, the controversial decision not to support the military intervention in Libya in 2011, the Syrian war and the 2015 migration crisis — all this context makes the current Iran escalation look especially worrying. Germany has already seen how the destruction of states in the Middle East leads to mass displacement and deep domestic conflict over refugee reception, the rise of right-wing populism and societal polarization. That is why today in German discourse the word “chaos” in relation to Iran sounds like a direct warning: Europe could again find itself not only an external observer but also a primary recipient of the consequences of others’ wars.

Finally, the structure of the ticker itself shows that Bayerischer Rundfunk seeks to set a frame in which Germany remains part of the Western camp but does not dissolve into the American logic of force. The ticker carefully collects statements not only from Trump and US representatives but also from Emmanuel Macron, Canadian politicians, Turkish leadership and the UN. Germany appears more as a quiet player: others — above all Trump — speak about its position more often than it does itself. But that, in essence, reflects Berlin’s real self-perception: the country prefers to speak the language of cautious diplomacy, and if a loud remark is issued, it will be like Wadephul’s words: without illusions about “regime change,” clearly betting on containing escalation and preventing the conflict from spreading to a level where it becomes an existential problem for European security.

Thus, in Bayerischer Rundfunk’s interpretation the Iran war appears not as a field for heroic narratives but as a threatening yet familiar scenario: the US and Israel pursue a forceful line against Tehran; Iran responds asymmetrically; the region balances on the edge of a large war; the UN warns of a humanitarian catastrophe; and Germany, while remaining in the Western bloc, consciously keeps a step aside from the military logic. Behind this restraint lie the lessons of Iraq, Libya and Syria, an internal aversion to war as a policy instrument and a cold understanding: the disintegration of Iran would hit Europe no less than the Middle East itself. In this sense the German journalistic perspective, presented in the BR ticker, becomes a reflection of a broader strategic intuition: keep distance, but stay in the game; remain an ally, but not a participant in another “experiment” of regime change in an unstable region.

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"War with Iran, swings over Ukraine and a new trade storm: how the world reads US actions"

In early March 2026, for a large part of the world "America" in the news was no longer about elections or tech sanctions, but a blazing Middle East. The joint US–Israeli war against Iran, which began in late February, struck nerves in Beijing, Tokyo and Kyiv alike — but in each place in its own way. It is overlaid by Donald Trump's "swings" on Ukraine and a new wave of trade protectionism that directly affects both Asia and Europe. As a result, the United States is simultaneously perceived as an indispensable security guarantor and as a source of strategic instability.

The central theme uniting Chinese, Japanese and Ukrainian discussions is Washington's unpredictability: from the sudden collapse of talks with Tehran and a massive strike on Iran to attempts to impose a quick peace for Ukraine and experiments with global tariffs. But the commonality ends there. China views the US–Israeli war with Iran through the prism of its own vulnerabilities and rivalry with Washington; Japan — through the fear of the region being drawn into a nuclear spiral; Ukraine — through the prospect that the Iranian front will permanently push the Ukrainian question off the White House agenda.

The loudest storyline is precisely the US–Israel war with Iran. On the night of the strike, the United States and Israel used Tomahawk cruise missiles, precision weapons and drones, inflicting massive damage on the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and eliminating Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and a significant portion of the country's military and political leadership, which in Russian‑language descriptions gave rise to the conflict's very name — "the 2026 US and Israel war with Iran" (ru.wikipedia.org). Within days Iran responded with missile strikes on American bases in the region — according to reports, attacks hit US facilities in several Middle Eastern countries and struck residential areas as well (ru.wikipedia.org). Chinese media note that at least 17 American bases and facilities were damaged in the Iranian attacks during the first weeks of the conflict (huacheng.gz-cmc.com). For many commentators in China and Japan this looks like a scenario that until recently belonged to the realm of "World War III in analytical fantasies," and in Kyiv — like a treacherous diversion of American attention from Eastern Europe to the Persian Gulf.

The Chinese media field perhaps provides the most multi‑layered reaction. Official Beijing voiced a tightly legalistic position: the foreign ministry and embassies warned citizens to leave Iran as soon as possible, and the MFA described the elimination of Iran's leadership as "a serious violation of Iran's sovereignty and security, a trampling of the purposes and principles of the UN Charter and the basic norms of international relations," demanding an immediate cessation of hostilities and a return to negotiations, while separately emphasizing its rejection of "unilateral actions" (zh.wikipedia.org). This formula is not only a defense of international law but a veiled reminder to Washington: if this can be done to Tehran today, tomorrow someone may try to rewrite the rules around China the same way.

In Chinese expert discourse, which is freer than official communiqués, the war with Iran is used to illustrate Xi Jinping's key mantra: "hard power decides everything." In a popular column on a Chinese‑language portal aimed at the diaspora, the escalation is described as an example that the US "used Israel as a springboard to strike Iran," and therefore Beijing must prevent Japan and the Philippines — formal US allies — from becoming the "East Asian Israel" and the "Southeast Asian Israel," respectively (wenxuecity.com). In this logic the current war both confirms Beijing's long‑standing fears — that Washington tends to solve problems by force when diplomacy does not yield the desired result — and serves as an argument for accelerating its own military and technological buildup.

Chinese official and semi‑official publications try to give the events a broader geopolitical dimension. Analytical pieces on the "Middle East crisis" emphasize that the United States deployed its largest regional force since the Iraq war of 2003: a strike carrier group led by the Abraham Lincoln, increased air presence, missile defense systems — and that this buildup was a direct continuation of the collapse of Geneva talks with Iran in January 2026, which Washington characterized as the "last diplomatic attempt" before possible war (zh.wikipedia.org). Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi, speaking at the Munich Security Conference, warned that any war involving Iran would carry severe consequences for the entire Middle East — the quote that armed conflict could destabilize the region for years ahead was widely reproduced by Chinese and regional media (zh.wikipedia.org).

The Japanese discussion is more fragmented, but two motifs clearly resonate: fear of erosion of the "nuclear taboo" and awareness of its own dependence on the American security umbrella. Back in 2025 analysts at the National Institute for Defense Studies under Japan's Ministry of Defense, assessing the Israel–Iran conflict, wrote that Israel's sudden strike dealt such damage to Iran's military machine and nuclear program that Tehran faced a long period of rebuilding key capabilities and lived under a constant threat of a "decapitation" operation against its leadership (nids.mod.go.jp). Now the same logic is projected onto US actions: Japanese media voice alarm that Washington has effectively demonstrated a willingness to carry out targeted elimination of a supreme leader, which is perceived as a qualitative shift in acceptable uses of force.

In a TV Asahi report an international political scientist bluntly said there is a sense of being "on the eve of World War III": the US systematically uses military force against sovereign states, up to the physical elimination of leaders and trying them under American laws, and behind rhetoric of "justice" often hides disregard for international law and human casualties (news.tv-asahi.co.jp). At the same time left‑wing media and activist outlets, such as a Japanese labor movement platform, publish pieces arguing that the idea of a US "economic state strategy" is a form of violence: in their view Washington relies less on multilateral diplomacy and more on a combination of sanctions and limited uses of force, which destroys whole societies and is essentially a continuation of war by other means (labornetjp2.org).

However, in more mainstream analytical journals, such as Foreign Affairs Japan, the tone is less emotional. They emphasize that there are no convincing historical precedents for the American bet on "precision strikes from above and popular uprisings from below" against the Iranian regime: having destroyed infrastructure and decapitated the ruling elite, the US and its allies are not able to offer a viable political alternative; moreover, there was no immediate and inevitable threat indicating that Iran was on the verge of acquiring nuclear weapons or about to strike the US and its allies (foreignaffairsj.co.jp). At the same time Japanese authors acknowledge that the very prospect of a nuclear Iran scares Tokyo as much as Washington does, and therefore the US remains a key guarantor of non‑proliferation and the security of regional partners.

The Ukrainian perspective is almost entirely focused on one question: what does the US war with Iran mean for Kyiv and for the prospects of peace with Russia. In expert and media circles there is an ambivalent feeling. On one hand, the United States is still seen as an indispensable supplier of weapons and intelligence; on the other — Washington's weariness from a protracted war, which intensified with Trump's second term in 2025, now intersects with a new Middle Eastern front.

Ukrainian analysts as early as late 2025 described Trump's foreign policy as "one big swing": from pauses in aid to its resumption, from statements about a "quick peace" to signals of firm support for Kyiv's defense capability (eurointegration.com.ua). According to polls cited by European Pravda, nearly half of Americans do not approve of Trump's actions on the Ukrainian war, and a significant share have difficulty determining which side has the advantage on the front — in Kyiv this is perceived as an alarming indicator of American public fatigue (eurointegration.com.ua). Against this background Ukrainian commentators closely analyze who personally influences the US president and how changes in the internal balance of power in Washington ahead of the 2026 midterm elections will affect defense support for Ukraine (eurointegration.com.ua).

Recently leading Ukrainian outlets have begun to speak of a "transatlantic crisis." In a long column in Ukrainska Pravda it is stressed that after Trump's return to the White House Ukrainian and European diplomacy found themselves in a "stormy sea": the US administration, on one hand, continues to declare commitment to the Western coalition supporting Ukraine, but on the other, demonstrates leniency toward Russia's aggressive policy and sets conditions that in Kyiv are perceived as an attempt to impose a "partial capitulation" — and the author directly links the intensification of this pressure to the calendar of the midterm Congressional elections in autumn 2026 (pravda.com.ua). At the everyday level, in this logic the US war with Iran is dangerous because it creates another major crisis for the White House that will require resources and political capital — and therefore another argument for Washington to "close the Ukrainian file" as quickly and cheaply as possible.

Western studies are often cited in Ukrainian media suggesting 2026 could be decisive for a settlement: either because the Trump administration and its supporters in Congress will need to show results of their mediation, or because the prospect of a tougher, more "hostile" Congress will push Russia toward an agreement on terms it considers most advantageous before possible tightening of the American line (rbc.ru). In this context Iran is seen as a dangerous distraction: if, by the time serious talks on Ukraine begin, the American administration is tied down by a large Middle Eastern campaign, Kyiv's room for maneuver will be substantially reduced.

Another major storyline, noticeable in China, Japan and Ukraine alike, is the US trade‑economic turn. Against the backdrop of the Middle East war the White House initiated a large increase in global tariffs, attempting thereby to circumvent a Supreme Court ruling that had found the electoral "mirror" tariffs against specific countries illegal. Chinese chronologies of January–February 2026 describe in detail how the US Supreme Court first overturned Trump's imposed "symmetrical" duties, after which the president himself announced a temporary — for 150 days — 15% increase in tariffs on all imports, accompanying this with sharp criticism of Taiwan and accusations that the island had "stolen the American chip industry" (zh.wikipedia.org). For Beijing this episode was further proof that Washington is willing to use trade as an instrument of political pressure on multiple fronts — from China and Taiwan to allies in Europe and Asia.

In Japan the same decisions are perceived differently. For Tokyo the United States remains a key market and the main guarantor of security, so even tough tariff moves are viewed through the prism of the need to preserve the alliance. A noteworthy split appears in Japanese expert circles: military analysts focus on how sanctions and tariffs fit into an overall US "state economic strategy" — as an element of containing China and Russia, as a way to weaken the resource base of potential adversaries; economists, however, openly worry that trade wars in the long run could push toward further fragmentation of the world economy and force Tokyo to make painful choices between American and Chinese markets.

Ukrainian experts, for their part, fear less the tariffs themselves than the political cycle in Washington that could accompany them. Authors analyzing the US domestic agenda note that a sharp protectionist escalation ahead of midterms will likely be accompanied by populist pressure to "focus on America, not other people's wars." That is why, according to Ukrainian analysts, Kyiv needs not only to persuade the US of the importance of continuing military and financial support, but also to offer American elites a "positive agenda" — from joint energy and digital infrastructure projects to participation in developing Ukraine's mineral resources, which is already being discussed in bilateral formats as a way to "compensate" for some of the US costs of assisting Ukraine (ru.wikipedia.org).

Finally, a particular place in international perception of the US is occupied by the linkage "war in Ukraine — war with Iran" through the common theme of the legitimacy of forceful actions. Chinese and Singaporean editorials stress that overthrowing other countries' governments, even if they are perceived as authoritarian and dangerous, contradicts the spirit of the UN Charter; they also acknowledge that within the Middle East there are many actors who secretly desire Iran's weakening, but insist that the US must balance "moral right" and international norms and consider the risk of further destabilization and threats to its own troops (zaobao.com.sg). In Japan and Ukraine, by contrast, the emphasis is more on consequences: in Tokyo there is fear that undermining the non‑proliferation regime and the de facto normalization of targeted "decapitation" operations will lead to a new arms race in which Japan will be squeezed between American expectations and regional threats; in Kyiv the question is often asked: if international law allows such radical precedents, why was it so powerless to restrain Russian aggression against Ukraine?

Taken together a multi‑layered image of America emerges. For China the US is both the main competitor and a source of systemic risk, whose actions confirm the need to build up "hard power" and create alternative centers of influence. For Japan it is an indispensable ally whose strategic impulsiveness forces Japanese society to repeatedly revisit its own taboos on armament and military activity. For Ukraine it is a necessary but increasingly capricious partner, whose foreign policy "swings" and involvement in other conflicts could cost Kyiv not only weapons, but also the space for sovereign decisions about peace and war.

The US–Israel war with Iran became the topic on which these different optics manifested most clearly. In Beijing it reinforces the conviction that the international order is finally entering an era of "the law of the strong"; in Tokyo it makes officials nervously count steps to a possible nuclear fork in Northeast Asia; in Kyiv it adds another timer to the already ticking hours of war. And the way the United States emerges from this Middle East crisis — whether it can combine military power with real diplomacy, and actions in Iran with responsibility for Ukraine — will largely determine how much the world in 2026 will still see America as a leader, rather than simply the most powerful and unpredictable player.

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How the World Argues with America: Iran, NATO, Migrants and Digital Borders

In March 2026 the image of the United States again became a central figure in international debates—not as an abstract idea of “American leadership,” but through very concrete crises and decisions coming out of Washington. Editorial columns and analyses in Germany, France and Russia focus primarily on the sharp escalation of the U.S.–Iran conflict and the largest U.S. military buildup in the Middle East since Iraq, disputes over Washington’s commitments to NATO and Ukraine, and the gradual “tightening of the screws” in American migration and digital policy—from tourist visas to social media and data controls. Against this backdrop the internal transformation of the United States under Donald Trump’s administration is read differently: in some places it is seen as a threatening return to unilateralism, elsewhere as a symptom of waning hegemony, and in others as an opening for maneuvering.

The new U.S.–Iran escalation is the central focus in almost all three countries. French experts describe the U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran on 28 February 2026—an operation reported to have killed supreme leader Ali Khamenei—as a “war for regime change” that tore apart months of multilateral talks brokered by Oman. Political scientists from the Parisian analytical center Le Grand Continent emphasize in their analysis that Washington and Tehran had held three rounds of talks since January, and then within days resorted to massive strikes on military and nuclear facilities—what for a French audience looks like a sharp abandonment of diplomacy and a return to the logic of 2003, only in a far more explosive region. Analysts note that France finds itself in a difficult position: on the one hand, Paris traditionally advocates “strategic autonomy” for the EU and caution in following the U.S. into military action; on the other, it cannot ignore the threat of the Strait of Hormuz being blocked, through which a critically important stream of oil for Europe passes.

In the French press the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz is described as a “structural test” for Europe: if the U.S. mobilizes the largest military contingent in the region since Iraq, strengthening its navy, air force and missile defense amid Iranian protests and brutal repression, are Europeans ready to pay the political price of supporting that— including higher energy prices and the threat of a refugee flow from Iran and the Levant. This is presented both as a repeat of old scenarios—where Europe pays an economic and political price for American pressure on adversaries—and as a new moment, given European societies’ fatigue from protracted crises.

The Russian discourse around the same conflict is constructed differently: Russian materials view the U.S.–Iran escalation both as confirmation of Washington’s “irremediable unilateralism” and as a window of opportunity. Russian publications emphasize that already in early January 2026 the U.S. president publicly promised to “help” Iranian protesters and then announced the deployment of “armadas” of warships to the Middle East; this is interpreted as a typical U.S. shift from political support to demonstrative military pressure. Overlaid on this is a broader narrative that the 2026 crisis is another example of using sanctions and threats of force for “regime change,” which in the Russian perspective confirms the necessity for Moscow to draw closer to Tehran and Beijing as a counterweight. At the same time, Russia is actively discussing the new phenomenon of massive disinformation and deepfakes accompanying this crisis: fake videos of unrest in Tehran and of the alleged “elimination of Iran’s leadership” are treated as examples of how the U.S. and its allies increasingly rely on information operations as well as missiles, raising separate concerns about future conflicts.

The German reaction largely goes through European frameworks. Analytical pieces in the German press discuss the U.S.–Iran escalation as part of a broader dilemma: on the one hand, the security of Germany’s and the EU’s energy systems depends directly on stable sea lanes and oil prices heavily influenced by Hormuz; on the other hand, German public opinion, after Afghanistan and Iraq, is extremely wary of any operations under U.S. auspices perceived as carrying a high risk of failure and humanitarian catastrophe. Against this background the German discourse includes the idea that Berlin should more actively promote diplomatic settlement, acting as a mediator between Washington and Tehran while defending a “European interest” distinct from the hardline positions of the U.S. and Israel. The subtext of this analysis is the long-standing German debate about whether Europe is becoming merely a “theater” for U.S. strategies.

The second major line of discussion concerns the role of the U.S. in NATO and on the European continent. Here the contrast between French and Russian perspectives is especially noticeable, with the German debate positioned between them. In Germany concern is raised not only by specific statements from Donald Trump about possibly making Article 5 guarantees “conditional,” but also by the general drift of American policy toward selective commitments: the Republican segment of the American establishment is increasingly skeptical about NATO expansion and long-term support for Ukraine, while Democrats continue to speak of the alliance as a “pillar of the international order.” This domestic polarization in the U.S. is discussed in German articles as a factor of strategic uncertainty: a team far less interested in defending Europe could be in the White House tomorrow, and Berlin would have to choose between increasing its own military spending and seeking new forms of European autonomy.

In the Russian discourse these doubts are interpreted as evidence of a “structural crisis of NATO” and the weakening of American hegemony. Russian commentators point out that within the U.S., according to polls, attitudes toward NATO are split along party lines: Democrats by majority support the alliance, while support among Republicans is noticeably lower. This is read as a long-term trend that could lead to a more fragmented security architecture in Europe, especially if the U.S. begins to openly demand that allies “pay for protection” in a harsher form. Against this backdrop, Russian materials on the war in Ukraine and strikes on Ukrainian infrastructure raise the theme that Washington allegedly is not willing to go beyond certain “red lines,” fearing direct confrontation with Russia, and that this too undermines the myth of the all-powerful American military machine.

The French press adds its own emphasis: for Paris the key question is not only how reliable Washington is, but how to integrate American power into the European project. In analytical articles from French think tanks the U.S. is still called an “indispensable power” in defense, but increasingly a “unreliable partner” politically: the risk of course shifts, personalized diplomacy and sudden decisions by Trump make European capitals hostages to American domestic politics. As a result, in Paris and Berlin the debate grows over whether Europe needs its own guaranteed nuclear and missile protection in addition to NATO’s U.S. “nuclear umbrella,” and whether France and Germany could become the center of an autonomous European military bloc in the future.

The third theme, gaining traction mainly in France and Germany, is “digital sovereignty” and U.S. migration policy—primarily changes to the visa‑waiver regime and data controls. A recent analysis by the World Travel & Tourism Council, widely cited in French media, shows that the proposed reform of the U.S. ESTA program—which would expand the collection of foreigners’ social media and digital activity data—could deter a significant share of European tourists: in surveys in France, Germany, Italy and the UK, a third of respondents said they would be less inclined to travel to the U.S. if such measures were introduced. French outlets emphasize that, given that inbound tourism to the U.S. has not yet returned to 2019 levels, additional restrictions would be a blow to Washington’s own economic interests. Some French commentators concede that in light of recurring terrorist attacks and rising political violence, security requirements will tighten everywhere, but they criticize the American approach for its unilateralism and lack of reciprocity—arguing that Europe, in response, does not tighten rules for Americans to the same degree.

In Germany the same theme is tied to a broader debate about the “digitalization of borders”: if Washington can demand that potential visitors disclose essentially their entire digital biography, how far away is the moment when such standards become the norm for global movement? German analysts see in this the risk of a further rupture of the transatlantic space: the U.S. is becoming less “hospitable” not only socially and politically but also procedurally. Notably, several German commentaries stress that European companies and the tourism sector would actively reorient their marketing strategies toward Asian and Latin American destinations in that case, accelerating the redistribution of flows of people and money away from America to other centers.

In the Russian context the topic of U.S. migration and digital control sounds different. The emphasis here is not on the rights of European tourists, but on the fact that tightening American visa and sanctions regimes reinforces the segregation of the world into “friends” and “enemies” of Washington. Russian commentators note that since 2022, and especially after the expansion of sanctions, America has consistently turned its migration and financial legislation into instruments of foreign policy—closing itself off to citizens of “unfriendly” countries and limiting their access to the American financial system and technologies. In this framework U.S. plans to control new spheres of influence, including the Arctic direction and the dispute over Greenland, are also discussed: Trump’s statements about wanting to take the island under control are interpreted both as a continuation of unilateral logic and as a threat to displace other players, primarily Russia, from key geostrategic regions.

Against this background, it is particularly telling how specific figures are cited across all three countries. In France experts are frequently quoted stressing that the U.S. operation against Iran, despite rhetoric about “protecting the international order,” in practice increases chaos and risks for the West itself: the region stands on the brink of yet another protracted war, and European states find themselves hostages to decisions in which they participated only indirectly. In the German sphere assessments come from both governing coalition representatives and the opposition: some urge “not to demonize” the U.S. and to remember that without the American umbrella Europe would be defenseless; others warn that excessive dependence on Washington makes the EU vulnerable to any changes in the White House. In Russia, Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov calls U.S. policy “an attempt to encroach on parts of the world far removed from the country and unrelated to its security,” stressing that Moscow is trying to “convey to American colleagues” the need for mutual respect and a renunciation of global patrolling of the planet. In his words one hears not only the official position but also a narrative popular in Russian society that Washington has become a “global sheriff” whose actions bring more destabilization than order.

There are also less obvious but indicative storylines. French and German analyses discuss how the Iran crisis intertwines with the ongoing war between Israel and Hezbollah and the general collapse of security in the Middle East: for Europeans this is not only a moral and political challenge but also a direct domestic political factor—from energy prices to radicalization in diasporas. Many European authors note that the U.S. in this situation shows decreasing willingness to take responsibility for the post-war order in regions it intervenes in: Trump is much less inclined than previous administrations toward multilateral “stabilization” and state-building, preferring short military operations and limited engagement. This forces Europe to rethink the old formula “the U.S. does the hard work, Europe pays,” because scenarios are emerging in which Washington provokes a crisis and Europeans have to deal with its consequences with minimal American involvement.

The Russian view, in turn, emphasizes that such “selective engagement” by the U.S. opens more room for other powers—from Russia and China to regional players like Turkey and Saudi Arabia. Using Iran and Venezuela as examples, Russian analysts show how U.S. military operations and sanctions push those countries closer to Moscow and Beijing, creating alternative economic and military ties. The Russian discourse regularly includes the idea that “the world is entering an era of fierce multipolarity,” in which Washington no longer has the same resources and legitimacy to manage global processes.

Finally, U.S. domestic politics and the personality of Donald Trump remain important backdrops to all these discussions. French and German articles often stress his tendency toward personalized decision-making, reliance on a small circle of trusted aides and a media-driven image of friend and foe. Russian commentaries present this with a shade of sarcasm: sources recount American reports that on issues like Ukraine and Gaza Trump is guided by “how it looks on television” and by his wife’s opinion, presented as an illustration of the irrationality of American policy. But behind the irony lies a serious conclusion: if such key decisions as a strike on Iran or a change of course on Ukraine depend on personalized and emotional factors, then U.S. predictability as an international actor drops sharply, and other countries must develop multi-level strategies for sudden turns.

A recurring motif across all three countries is the sense that the role of the U.S. in the world is changing, but the final shape of the new order has not yet formed. For France this is primarily a challenge to European autonomy: is it possible to build a “sovereign Europe” while remaining in the shadow of American military power and under the pressure of its digital and financial standards? For Germany the question is how to reconcile historical caution, pacifist instincts in society and growing expectations from allies and Washington about Berlin’s contribution to security. For Russia it confirms a long-promoted narrative about the “decline of the unipolar world,” but at the same time is a source of new risks: the less predictable the United States, the harder it is to build any stable confrontation or balance with it.

Thus, viewed from Berlin, Paris and Moscow, America today is not simply a “global leader” or “world policeman,” but a bundle of contradictory roles: guarantor of security and source of instability, technological and financial magnet and simultaneously a factor of digital control and segregation, a necessary but increasingly unreliable ally and still a dangerous, though no longer all-powerful, adversary. The Iran crisis, debates about NATO, visa barriers and battles over Greenland and the Arctic are only separate scenes of a larger drama: the world is learning to live with an America that is gradually ceasing to be the sole center of gravity and becoming one of several great powers whose decisions must not only be taken into account but constantly contested.

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States Under Fire: How Japan, France and Australia Discuss Today's America

American policy has once again become the main foreign-policy backdrop for news in Japan, France and Australia — but not as an abstract superpower, rather as a direct source of risks and opportunities. In March 2026 several “American storylines” come to the fore for these countries at once: nuclear disarmament and a renewed confrontation with Russia, escalation with Iran and an increased US military presence in the Middle East, the economic and technological effects of Washington’s course on its allies, and domestic American disputes over AI and tech regulation. In each society, however, the conversation about America is equally a conversation about themselves: about their own security, economic future and place in the world.

One of the most notable reasons for debate is the final termination of the strategic offensive arms treaty between the US and Russia. Australian ABC News examines in detail how the Donald Trump administration declined a one‑year extension of the New START, calling it a “poorly negotiated deal,” and instead proposed a “new, improved and modernized treaty” that should include China. The piece emphasizes that Washington is deliberately breaking the Cold War–era arms‑control architecture in the name of a more “realistic” approach to three‑way nuclear competition. Australian commentators note a troubling detail: if the previous treaty, imperfect as it was, provided a framework of predictability, regional US allies in the Pacific now find themselves in a world where US–China competition and the risk of a nuclear race with Russia are both intensifying. For Canberra, which relies on the American “nuclear umbrella,” this is not an academic question but an element of national strategy: Australian media interest is growing in how any changes in American nuclear doctrine will affect practical deterrence in the Asia‑Pacific. (abc.net.au)

At the same time another, far hotter front is intensifying: the US–Iran confrontation. In France, expansive survey and analytical pieces note a large-scale buildup of American military presence in the Middle East in 2025–2026, up to the deployment of additional carrier strike groups and the relaunch of a “maximum pressure” policy on Tehran through tough sanctions and attempts to nullify Iranian oil exports. French articles describe this as a return to the logic of force dominance that Europe tried to distance itself from after the 2003 Iraq war, and stress Paris’s ambiguous position: on the one hand France is a NATO ally of the US; on the other, it is a serious player in the Persian Gulf tied to energy and relations with Arab monarchies. Thus French analysts focus mainly on the risks to European energy security and how American “maximum pressure” strategy effectively deprives the EU of maneuvering space, pushing it toward a harder line than it might otherwise choose. (fr.wikipedia.org)

Australian media bring their own angle to the same story. ABC’s report on how the US together with Arab states actually turn to Ukraine for help in countering Iranian Shahed strike drones looks almost symbolic: Washington, accustomed to being the “arsenal of democracy,” finds itself in the position of a buyer of foreign experience and technology. Analysts cite experts who say the American missile‑defense and air‑defense systems proved less adapted to mass cheap drone attacks than expected, and that Washington is now forced to build unusual triangles of cooperation: US — Ukraine — Gulf states. For Australian audiences this is an example of how the US is relearning to fight in the age of cheap drones, and a lesson for its own defense policy: you cannot rely only on expensive “exclusive” systems when an adversary uses inexpensive mass attack means. Underneath this runs another point: allies’ dependence on the American military architecture looks vulnerable if even the main center of that architecture must urgently patch technological gaps. (abc.net.au)

The French public, for its part, reacts to American forceful activity in Iran and the Middle East with long‑accumulated scepticism. Around discussions of a “war with Iran in 2026” French outlets show fatigue with a recurring scenario: the US increases military presence, announces another round of sanctions, speaks of defending global security, and Europe then faces waves of refugees, energy price volatility and the need to navigate between allied solidarity and caution. Commentators recall that the former EU foreign policy chief Josep Borrell repeatedly publicly questioned the effectiveness of American military campaigns, saying that the United States “hasn’t won a major war since World War II.” That view, widely cited on European and Francophone analytic platforms, reflects a deep debate: can one indefinitely rely on the American war machine if its operations rarely translate into sustainable political results. (reddit.com)

In economics and technology France sees the contemporary US as both partner and aggressive competitor. Think tanks such as the Observatoire de l’Europe analyze the Trump administration’s trade and tax policies with a distinctly pragmatic lens: corporate tax cuts, protectionist measures and the pull of major multinational investments into American jurisdiction. One such publication details pharmaceutical giant AstraZeneca’s decision to invest more than €40 billion in the US over the next five years, including a large research center in Virginia, as well as a major agreement between American Eli Lilly and Danish Novo Nordisk to lower prices on key drugs in exchange for new capital investments in US manufacturing. For French authors this is an example of how Washington, using “Buy American” policies and tax incentives, “siphons off” innovative activity from Europe, widening the productivity and technological leadership gap. The worrying conclusion follows: if the EU does not build its own industrial and scientific strategy, it risks becoming a periphery of two giants — the US and China. (observatoiredeleurope.com)

Another French strand concerns technology regulation, particularly artificial intelligence in the US. Francophone tech sites and economic reviews frequently cite American opinion polls: publications note that, according to NBC and other studies, most Americans both use AI services and view them with a high degree of distrust. A recent piece citing a survey conducted in late February–early March 2026 emphasizes the paradox: although AI use in the US is growing, the share of those who “very much trust” these technologies does not exceed a few percent, while a significant portion of the population expresses a “high level of anxiety.” French commentators see here a reflection of a broader American dilemma: a country claiming technological leadership fails to embed rapid technological progress into the social contract. For Paris this is not just observing someone else’s problems: in debates about its own AI regulation France is watching American disputes closely — as both a model of innovation dynamics and as a set of warning signs about social rifts and growing distrust of elites. (cointribune.com)

In the Japanese information space the American theme these weeks appears less as a dramatic conflict line and more as a constant structural factor — primarily in economics, energy and technology. For Tokyo, Washington’s political course on climate and energy is not an abstract agenda but a question of balancing the “green” transition and supply security. Japanese economic and sectoral outlets closely analyze how the US, after adopting the Inflation Reduction Act, is sharply scaling up investment in solar energy and related manufacturing capacity, and what that means for Japanese players. Against the backdrop of the American plan to expand offshore drilling and issue dozens of new oil and gas licenses in 2026–2031, Japanese analysts see a growing duality: Washington officially speaks of climate leadership, but de facto is ready to increase hydrocarbon production to both profit and weaken competitors like Russia and OPEC countries. For Japan, which depends on imports and seeks to strengthen low‑carbon energy, this raises questions about how reliable American rhetoric on decarbonization is and how to diversify its energy ties in a world where the US increasingly plays on many fields at once. (fr.wikipedia.org)

A special place in the Japanese discussion is occupied by the technological dimension of American policy — from export controls to immigration restrictions. Research centers in France already note how the tightening of American visa and migration regimes, especially for highly skilled specialists, and the rollback of some of the more liberal Biden‑era directives affect global flows of talent. For Japan, which is also competing to attract researchers and engineers, this American line is both a risk and an opportunity. The risk is that tightening controls around key technologies, including semiconductors and AI, deepens fragmentation of global value chains and forces Tokyo to embed more tightly into American control schemes. The opportunity is that some scientists and entrepreneurs facing barriers to the US may look for alternatives in other Asian tech hubs, including Japan, if it offers more predictable conditions. (ifri.org)

Against this backdrop Australian discussion of the “American factor” increasingly emphasizes Canberra’s dependence on strategic shifts in Washington. Pieces on American initiatives to defend against Iranian drones, the winding down of arms‑control deals and the expansion of US military presence in the Persian Gulf and Eastern Mediterranean are read in Australia not only as distant news. They are directly woven into debates around AUKUS, the purchase of American and British submarines, participation in US missile‑defense systems and intelligence sharing. Australian authors ask: if the US at any moment is ready to reallocate resources between Europe, the Middle East and the Indo‑Pacific, can Australia guarantee that at the crucial hour American forces will be fully available to deter China? The answer is not always comforting, pushing toward the idea of “responsible autonomy”: strengthening its own defense capabilities within the alliance with the US, not instead of it. (abc.net.au)

Meanwhile in French intellectual circles America still appears as an image of political futures — both good and bad. In a number of long surveys published in outlets such as Le Courrier des Amériques, American society is described as a laboratory where several major trends converge: demographic change, the shift to “platform capitalism,” polarization around cultural and identity issues, and now mass AI adoption. Some authors openly discuss the question: “Will AI kill all jobs in the US?” — stressing that the American model with its flexible labor market and weak social safety nets turns technological shocks into especially painful shocks. For the French reader this is both a warning and a mirror: the same debates take place in Paris, but against a background of much stronger unions and a tradition of social welfare. In this context the US appears less as a “model country” and more as a “warning country” about what happens when technological and financial capital race ahead while political institutions fail to incorporate those changes into fair rules of the game. (courrierdesameriques.com)

The common motif uniting Japanese, French and Australian discussions about America is a growing distrust in US predictability as a system. This is not anti‑Americanism in the old sense, but an awareness that a country which simultaneously leads harsh sanction campaigns, increases oil drilling, tries to control global AI and reshapes trade and tax systems for its own needs has become too large and often contradictory a factor to be treated simply as an “anchor of global stability.” Japanese analysts try to stitch American fluctuations into long‑term energy and technology strategies; the French balance between allied solidarity and the fear of becoming an economic appendage and political hostage to others’ wars; Australians try to rethink their role as a junior partner for whom American decisions in Iran, Europe or on nuclear control automatically have consequences in the Indo‑Pacific.

At the same time none of these countries is seriously talking about breaking with the US. On the contrary, the more turbulent American policy appears, the more actively elites in Tokyo, Paris and Canberra seek ways not just to “follow,” but to influence — through bilateral consultations, coordination in NATO and the G7, and proposals for joint initiatives in AI, energy or arms control. In this sense the current state of discussions about America abroad can be described as a transition from “unipolar trust” to “critical partnership”: the US remains indispensable, but its course must be constantly checked, debated and sometimes corrected. That is why the local voices — economists, diplomats, military experts, technology analysts — from Tokyo, Paris and Canberra are so important: they look at Washington not from below, but as at a complex, contradictory, yet necessary partner, for whom naivety is no longer a luxury.

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How the World Sees America Today: War with Iran, Oil and New Cracks in Relations

In March 2026 the discussion of the United States abroad refocused on war — this time on the large-scale air campaign by the US and Israel against Iran that began at the end of February. For Australia, India and South Africa America is now at once a key partner, a source of economic and energy shocks, and a political actor whose decisions hit domestic debates in these countries directly. A recurring theme is the sense that Washington is acting more unilaterally and impulsively, shifting the costs of its decisions onto others.

The central unifying theme is the US and Israeli war with Iran and the related crisis in the Strait of Hormuz. Indian and Australian writers look primarily at the risks to energy and maritime security, while South African commentators place the war into a broader narrative about the “global South,” tired of American intervention and double standards. Each country, however, raises its own specific set of questions: India — strategic autonomy and the cost of aligning with the US; Australia — the role of a “junior ally” in the American security architecture; South Africa — sovereignty, racial policy and pressure from Washington.

In India the war with Iran is perceived as a test of New Delhi’s entire foreign policy doctrine. Editorials in major outlets, including the Times of India and The Hindu, emphasize that the launch of the campaign is the result of a strategic miscalculation by Washington, which “did not fully calculate the military, economic and political risks” and is now forced to wage a war without a clear endgame. The Times of India, in an analytical piece, notes that already a week after the start of the conflict the Trump administration “faces a growing set of military, economic and political risks” capable of derailing attempts to convert initial successes into a sustained advantage, and asks whether the US has an exit plan or whether the world is once again trapped in a “forever war” under a new brand.(timesofindia.indiatimes.com)

The Indian perspective is particular. For New Delhi Iran is not an abstract “sponsor of terrorism,” but a neighbor on the Indian Ocean, tied to the Chabahar port project, an important oil supplier and a link in a transport corridor to Central Asia. A US-Iran clash redraws the entire energy and geopolitical landscape in which India has been accustomed to maneuvering. Newspaper reports about rising oil prices and news that, amid American and Israeli strikes on Iran, the barrel once again rose above $100 are accompanied by discussion of how deeply India can afford to tie its security to Washington if each American escalation immediately hits India’s balance of payments and inflation.(apnews.com)

Adding fuel to the fire is the fact that, in the shadow of the Iran war, the US has to maneuver on the “Russia track” as well. The Associated Press reported that Washington effectively allowed India for a month to continue buying Russian oil at sea, even though in February Trump had promised tough tariffs for countries trading with Moscow and Tehran. Indian commentators describe this as a forced concession by the US, which needs at least one major economy of the global South to “stay on board,” but at the same time as a signal that Washington views energy primarily as an instrument of pressure rather than a sphere of predictable cooperation.(apnews.com)

A symbolic episode was the destruction by American forces of the Iranian frigate IRIS Dena, which was returning home after participating in an international naval review and MILAN 2026 exercises in the Indian port of Visakhapatnam. Indian strategic analyst Brahma Chellaney said the US had turned the Indian Ocean into a “zone of war,” undermining India’s image as a preferred regional security partner. He called Washington’s actions “an element of betrayal” — that the US fleet had stood shoulder to shoulder with Iranian sailors at a peaceful event, and then, as soon as the ship left the Indian harbor, it was sunk.(apnews.com)

The left-leaning online magazine Peoples Dispatch goes even further, arguing that the US war on Iran exposed the “hollowness” of Modi’s foreign policy, leaving him caught between pressure from the White House and the need to maintain ties with Tehran and Moscow. The piece emphasizes that US Treasury Secretary Bessant’s statement that India would be “generously” allowed a month to purchase already-shipped Russian oil at sea, after which it would have to buy American oil at a higher price, reveals the true nature of the “partnership” — Washington uses sanctions to capture the Russian oil market and impose its terms.(peoplesdispatch.org)

Against this backdrop, very harsh assessments are circulating on Indian social media and economic blogs. In discussions among stock-market communities, users react sarcastically to Trump’s words that there are “almost no targets left” in Iran and that the war could end anytime: in their view, the US has achieved nothing, only accelerated Iran’s nuclear program and turned the Strait of Hormuz into a minefield, while Washington’s international image has been undermined.(reddit.com)

The Australian debate about the US is currently less loud but likewise centered on the Iran war and great-power rivalry. Through the security lens, Canberra looks at the new American initiative Shield of the Americas — the summit at Trump’s Florida resort that created a format for permanent cooperation between the US and Latin American and Caribbean governments in combating drug cartels. Economic reviews note that the launch of this format coincided with a weakening dollar and expectations of lower Fed rates, which pushes capital toward regional markets. For Australia, however, the more important point is different: the American turn toward “regional shields” against security threats creates a precedent for the Asia‑Pacific region, where AUKUS and the QUAD already exist. The question arises whether Australia will become part of an even tougher anti‑China arc in which Washington sets the rules and allies bear most of the commercial and military risks.(en.wikipedia.org)

At the same time the war in the Persian Gulf threatens global maritime transport of oil and gas, and for Australia’s resource-based economy this is a double-edged factor. On the one hand, rising energy and commodity prices promise windfall profits for exporters. On the other — instability along key shipping lanes and uncertainty about how far the US is prepared to militarize the Strait of Hormuz raise uncomfortable questions about how closely Canberra should “tie” its security to American strategy if that strategy increasingly looks like a series of improvisations. Australian defense experts’ commentaries revive the old dilemma: be a “responsible stakeholder” or a “junior partner” that automatically follows Washington.

Interestingly, despite different political regimes and economic models, Australia, India and South Africa share growing doubts about the US’s ability to act as a predictable, restrained leader. Indian centrists fear that Washington cannot stop in time and is dragging the world into another “forever war” with a blurred purpose. South African commentators see punitive selectivity in American policy and a disregard for the sovereignty of global South states. Australian observers, more measured in tone, wonder whether successive “coalitions of the willing” are turning allies into silent accomplices of American adventures.

South Africa today displays perhaps the sharpest public conflict with the US of the three countries examined. The long deterioration of relations, which began with Trump’s criticism of land reform and his rhetoric about a “genocide of farmers,” took a new turn against the background of the war with Iran and the US capture of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro, which South African media often describe as a “kidnapping.”(en.wikipedia.org)

The climax was Pretoria’s summoning of the new US ambassador Leo Brent Bozell III. The occasion was his speech at a business forum where the diplomat sharply attacked South Africa’s domestic policy — from its ties with Iran to affirmative-action laws aimed at expanding the rights of the black population. The Associated Press notes that under the Trump administration Washington increasingly describes Pretoria’s foreign policy as “anti‑American” and its racial redress policies as “anti‑white.” The South African government, for its part, accuses the ambassador of “returning the country to racial polarization” and of failing to respect the complex path from apartheid to democracy.(apnews.com)

Interestingly, even part of South Africa’s business community, usually pragmatic and oriented toward exports to the US, is becoming more critical in commentary. Political commentators and risk researchers such as Marisa Lourens note that whereas in the past “tough realism” was associated with China and India, now the United States is perceived as the “most unreasonable partner,” ready to resort to open humiliations and sanctions for domestic political points. In this context Trump’s refusal to invite South Africa to the 2026 G20 summit in Miami, officially explained as “treatment of Afrikaners,” looks to South African analysts like an attempt to punish Pretoria for too independent a position on Palestine, Russia and now Iran.(en.wikipedia.org)

In parliamentary briefing notes South Africa already lists the US not only as an important trading partner but also as a source of global instability. One recent briefing from the parliamentary budget office explicitly speaks of “unstable behavior” by the American government that undermines confidence in democratic institutions and international law, citing the capture of Maduro and the war with Iran as examples of unilateral actions that create turbulence in developing markets. From the South African perspective, America is becoming not a guarantor but a producer of risks for the world economy.(parliament.gov.za)

Despite the sharp political rhetoric, President Cyril Ramaphosa and several ministers try to emphasize that business relations with the US remain strong and are even growing. In interviews with business outlets Ramaphosa says that “beyond the headlines and debates about trade and politics, American and South African businesses continue to build cooperation,” suggesting that the political storm may pass while economic interests will remain. However, as the war with Iran and the G20 dispute layer onto old wounds — from the US program to admit white South African refugees to cuts in funding for the PEPFAR anti‑HIV programs — more commentators are asking whether it is time for Pretoria to definitively pivot toward new partners such as China, Russia and the Gulf states.(en.wikipedia.org)

Running through all three countries is another theme: energy as a field of coercion and vulnerability. When Trump in Washington explains rising oil prices by saying the US “makes a lot of money” as the largest producer, Indian and South African commentators interpret this as a cynical admission that the global South’s economies must pay for White House strategic games. Indian economists link the jump of oil above $100 a barrel to a widening current-account deficit and rising inflation expectations, while South Africans associate it with the threat of a new wave of stagflation and a weakening rand.(apnews.com)

In India the war with Iran adds a new argument for proponents of “atmanirbhar Bharat” — the course toward strategic autonomy and localization of defense production. Analysts on the IndraStra portal emphasize that dependence on American military systems and logistics can lead to supply delays and conflicts of priority when Washington redirects resources to its own wars. They note that India must simultaneously maintain relations with Russia (energy and arms), China (trade and border rivalry), Iran (Chabahar, oil) and the US (technology and investment), and that a unilateral bet on America in the current conditions is too risky a step.(indrastra.com)

In Australia the energy aspect shows up differently: the country is a resource exporter, not a major oil importer. But rising energy and metal prices amid an expanding Persian Gulf conflict forces discussion about what a world will look like in which the US increasingly uses military force and sanctions to control key commodity flows. In the promoted scenario of a “shield” in the Americas and potential analogues in the Pacific, Australia finds itself in a position where its own resources and ports could become elements of a broader American strategy — a strategy to which Canberra does not always have full access in its development.

Despite the ambivalence in tone, Australia, India and South Africa share an increasing doubt in the US’s predictability as a restrained leader. Indian centrists worry that Washington cannot stop in time and is drawing the world into another “forever war.” South African commentators see punitive selectivity and disregard for sovereignty. Australian analysts, more cautious in wording, wonder whether successive “coalitions of the willing” are turning allies into quiet accomplices of American adventures.

Still, perceptions of the US remain ambivalent. Voices in all three countries underscore the importance of cooperation with Washington. Australian politicians in the governing camp continue to call the US a “necessary security anchor” in the Indo‑Pacific. Indian tech and finance circles remind that the US market remains crucial for service and IT exports, and that American investment underpins many Indian unicorns. South African business associations fear losing duty‑free access to the American market and point out that in spite of political storms trade and investment continue.

The prevailing nerve of today’s discussions is that the image of the US as a “responsible hegemon” is rapidly eroding. In place of former certainty comes pragmatic skepticism: partnership — yes, but with caveats and safeguards; cooperation — yes, but without blindly following Washington’s lead; dialogue — yes, but with willingness to defend one’s own agenda, even if that means open conflict, as in South Africa’s case.

From the point of view of Australia, India and South Africa, America in early 2026 is a country whose actions are felt as explosions in the Middle East, swings in oil prices, diplomatic scandals and a revision of global rules of the game. And the more Washington demonstrates readiness to solve foreign‑policy tasks by force and coercion, the louder the question outside the US becomes: isn’t it time to prepare for a world where American leadership is just one factor among others, not the axis around which everything else revolves?

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How the World Argues About the U.S.: Venezuela, Iran and "Trump's Return" in the Mirror of Germany,...

In early March 2026, global discussion of the United States once again concentrated on power, war and Washington’s unilateral decisions. In German, South African and Russian debates there is almost no talk of American domestic politics detached from foreign policy: all three information environments view the U.S. through the prism of the crisis in relations with Iran, the military operation in Venezuela, the transformation of NATO and the upcoming G20 summit in Miami. These events intertwine with the return to power of Donald Trump, which in Berlin is seen as a risk to European security, in Pretoria as a test of the Global South’s sovereignty, and in Moscow as confirmation of the image of the U.S. as an aggressive power that violates international law.

One of the key pressure points became the war between the U.S. and Israel on one side and Iran on the other, which suddenly flared on February 28, 2026 and has already been dubbed in the international press a new Middle East conflict of the AI era. For the first time in a large-scale conflict, deepfakes and generative AI were massively used for disinformation: fake clips about "uprisings in Tehran" and the "elimination of leadership" triggered brief panic on energy markets and added a digital dimension to the military one. (ru.wikipedia.org) Against the backdrop of strikes by the U.S. and Israel and Iran’s retaliatory missile attacks, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk publicly condemned the actions of all parties and called for an immediate return to negotiations. (ru.wikipedia.org) European institutions reacted more cautiously: European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and European Council President António Costa called the conflict "deeply worrying" and stressed the need for "restraint" and a "credible transfer of power" in Iran, thereby effectively assuming the role of mediator between Washington and Tehran. (ru.wikipedia.org)

From the German point of view, this crisis overlays preexisting anxiety about the U.S. course under Trump. A recent strategic report prepared within the framework of the European security discussion emphasizes that changes in U.S. foreign policy and alliance policy under the Trump administration "make the scale and reliability of American guarantees less predictable," and that Russia’s main strategic goal is declared to be the splitting of NATO. (belfercenter.org) German analysts, in this logic, see the strikes on Iran and the operation in Venezuela not simply as isolated episodes but as elements of a common pattern: Washington is demonstrating its readiness to use force outside a UN Security Council mandate, while Europe finds itself caught between loyalty to an ally and the risk of escalation on which it is itself energetically and politically dependent.

The U.S. military operation in Venezuela, which began in the first days of 2026, reinforced this perception. An emergency UN Security Council meeting on January 5, 2026 in New York was convened precisely because of Washington’s actions; the debate there became a concentrate of divergences: the U.S. appealed to "protecting democracy," while Russia and a number of Global South countries spoke of violations of sovereignty and bypassing UN procedures. (ru.wikipedia.org) In the Russian press this episode was almost automatically likened to previous U.S. interventions in Latin America, drawing a line from Panama and Grenada to Caracas. For the Russian audience this is a convenient example of "old imperialism" which, commentators argue, exposes the hypocrisy of American rhetoric about international law.

The South African discourse, by contrast, frames the Venezuelan and Iranian crises within a broader debate about the fairness of global governance. In an analytical note published by the Konrad Adenauer Foundation regarding South Africa’s G20 presidency, it is emphasized that even when the U.S. is "physically absent" from meetings, as happened at one summit, it still "sets the agenda" — whether that be sanctions policy, reform of international institutions or debates about human rights. (kas.de) The fact that the U.S. remains host of the next G20 summit in 2026 in Miami is used in South African columns as a vivid symbol of asymmetry: a Global South country bets on multilateralism, while Washington, in the words of one South African political scientist, "prefers coalitions of the willing to UN procedures."

A particular irritant in Pretoria is the selection of invitees to the G20. The report emphasizes that against the backdrop of accusations in Europe and the U.S. about "genocide of white farmers" in South Africa — which local elites consider exaggerated and politically motivated — the exclusion of certain Global South states from the Miami summit is perceived as an attempt by Washington to build a "club of like-minded" nations around the American agenda. (kas.de) In South African commentary this is linked to the war in Iran: the U.S. supposedly wants even global economic platforms to a priori support its sanctions line and the isolation of its opponents.

The Russian reaction to the Iran crisis illustrates how a foreign policy conflict overlays an already entrenched image of the U.S. in society. In official comments Moscow called the strike on Iran "unprovoked aggression" and used rhetoric that has become standard in recent years: emphasis on violation of sovereignty, ignoring the UN Security Council and the danger of setting a precedent for other states. (ru.wikipedia.org) At the same time, the Russian public sphere contains a more complex picture of the U.S. Popular discussions in online communities not directly tied to propaganda portray America as a country of extremes and opportunities at once: users note the high share of people with tertiary education, a developed labor market that allows servicing large student loans, while also complaining about a "schizophrenic" job market where entry-level positions often demand inflated qualifications — a PhD plus ten years’ experience. (reddit.com) This polarity — admiration for economic power and criticism of foreign policy — makes the Russian reaction to U.S. moves particularly contradictory: while condemning strikes on Iran and the operation in Venezuela, many nonetheless acknowledge that without American technological and financial weight it will be difficult to shape a new world order.

Germany in the current debate acts as a laboratory of European fears. Deutsche Bank’s annual macroeconomic outlook for 2026 notes that the U.S. and Germany are forecast to see a "consistent cyclical recovery," yet in the section on risks to Europe a significant place is given to foreign policy uncertainties tied specifically to American security policy: shifts in U.S. positions toward NATO, outbreaks of conflict in the Middle East and Latin America, and rising military spending. (wealth.db.com) At the level of editorial nuance, this manifests in German media increasingly comparing Washington’s actions not with abstract norms of international law but with European interests. For the German reader it matters not only whether the U.S. has the right to strike Iran or intervene in Venezuela, but how this will affect energy prices, migration flows and the domestic political balance in Germany itself.

The South African perspective adds the notion of "democracy with double standards." In pieces on South Africa’s G20 presidency it is repeatedly emphasized that the U.S., by distancing itself from some platforms, simultaneously demands that partners follow its sanctions regimes and geopolitical priorities. (kas.de) Venezuela and Iran appear here as symbols that Washington quickly moves from diplomacy to force when it believes international formats are stalling. In South African political discourse this is interpreted as a challenge not only to particular regimes but to the very principle of sovereign equality: if a great power can, relying on economic might and military potential, impose sanctions and conduct operations without regard for the opinion of the rest of the world, then "multilateralism" becomes a façade.

Finally, Russian analysis uses the Iranian and Venezuelan cases to support the thesis of a "militarized U.S. economy." In recent expert comments on markets and rates, American air formations and U.S. Navy actions in crisis regions are mentioned alongside inflation and the key rate as factors affecting investor expectations. (cdn.iz.ru) This way of talking about the U.S. — as a coupling of the Pentagon, the dollar and technology — differs from the European, more institutional and legal approach, and from the South African, more moral-political one. For the Russian audience the U.S. is simultaneously the main military opponent, a systemic economic competitor and, paradoxically, an important benchmark for comparing standards of living and opportunities.

The common denominator of these differing perspectives is growing distrust in the U.S. ability to act as a "responsible hegemon." Germany increasingly asks how long American security commitments are and whether "coalitions of the willing" are substituting collective NATO and EU mechanisms. South Africa sees U.S. strikes on Iran and intervention in Venezuela as a threat to the idea of an equal Global South and doubts whether the Miami G20 summit will be a venue for genuine dialogue rather than consolidation of a Western agenda. Russia uses every new crisis as an argument that international law in its current form is an instrument of the strong, not a universal norm.

Yet nowhere — neither in Berlin, nor in Pretoria, nor in Moscow — are the U.S. perceived as a disappearing factor. On the contrary, the greater the anxiety provoked by American policy, the clearer the realization: no major war, no systemic reform — from Iran and Venezuela to the future of the G20 — can be resolved while ignoring Washington. It is precisely this combination of irritation and dependence that today shapes the tone of the world’s conversation about the U.S. — a conversation in which Germany argues about reliability, South Africa about fairness, and Russia about legitimacy, but all three ultimately describe the same problem: what to do with a power without which one cannot, but with which one increasingly cannot continue as before.

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World reactions to the escalation between the US and Iran

International media increasingly read the rising tension between the US and Iran not merely as a local escalation, but as a risk of the conflict spreading across the entire Middle East. South Korean commentators note that Washington is calling on allies to strengthen their maritime presence and speaks of neutrality, while at the same time raising concerns about drawing partners into security coalitions. Ukrainian publications, in turn, record sharp statements by Donald Trump about the “complete destruction” of Iran, the possibility of sanctions being reinstated, and claims about links between Russian and Iranian intelligence, portraying the US both as an escalator and as a key mediator in the region. Against this backdrop, protests against the war and fears of the conflict spreading underscore how thin the line has become between dialogue, threat, and real military action. Material prepared based on Ukrinform (Ukraine) materials.

The US–Iran war as an opportunity for Ukraine: a new view from Kyiv

A Ukrainian piece on Ukrinform (https://www.ukrinform.ua/rubric-world/4101532-dva-tizni-vijni-na-blizkomu-shodi-v-ukraini-zavilisa-novi-sansi.html) offers not so much a chronicle of escalation in the Middle East as an attempt to look at it through the eyes of a country that has been living under full-scale war for almost three years. The central question of the text: how the US–Iran confrontation, Israel’s involvement, nervous reactions in global markets, and the intensifying US–China rivalry affect Ukraine’s chances to defeat Russia and end its war on acceptable terms.

This view is deliberately subjective and pragmatic: almost every external storyline in the article is immediately “translated” into Ukrainian terms — politically and literally. The future of the Strait of Hormuz, changes in the sanctions regime, Trump’s diplomatic manoeuvres, China’s behavior, the stability of the Iranian regime — all are considered not as abstract geopolitical news but as elements of a larger formula: what accelerates and what slows the end of Russian aggression against Ukraine.

The authors’ and experts’ starting thesis is simple and ambitious: the current war in the Middle East is not only a risk of diverting the world’s attention from Ukraine, but also a “window of opportunity,” as stated in the headline of the piece: “в України з’явилися нові шанси” (“Ukraine has new chances”). These new chances include possible access to additional missiles and air-defense systems due to the redistribution of Western resources; the opportunity, for the first time since 2022, to act not only as a supplicant but as a security provider for other regions; and prospects to weaken Russia’s strategic rear by striking its partners in the authoritarian axis Beijing–Tehran–Moscow.

At the same time, the tone of the article is far from euphoric. Almost every identified opportunity is accompanied by caveats about risks: sending Ukrainian specialists and equipment to the Middle East could mean a potential weakening of Ukraine’s own air defense; rising oil prices and any loopholes in sanctions would provide Moscow with additional resources for the war; increased US pressure on Iran and China could also turn into pressure on Kyiv for the sake of a “quick peace.” Ukrainian readers are honestly warned: the balance of gains and losses will become clear only “after the next large raid of Russian drones and missiles.”

Structurally, the article is built around comments from two Ukrainian political scientists — Ihor Reiterovych and Artur Kharitonov — each offering his own perspective. Reiterovych focuses on the Middle Eastern and energy dimensions, explaining the immediate risks and opportunities presented by the US–Iran conflict. Kharitonov places this conflict within the broader equation of the global US–China confrontation, viewing Ukraine as one of the key, though not the only, fronts in the fight against a network of authoritarian regimes.

Reiterovych begins by assessing the immediate threats. In his words, “станом на зараз я не бачу великої кількості критичних ризиків саме для України” (“at present I do not see a large number of critical risks specifically for Ukraine”). The main area of concern is energy and oil. The article analyses in detail how a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, price volatility, and possible “easing of sanctions” on Russian oil for particular buyers like India could theoretically give Moscow additional revenues. But the political scientist immediately tempers panicked expectations: Indian banks fear secondary sanctions and are not rushing into Russia’s embrace, and settlements in rupees are inconvenient for the Kremlin. Hence his conclusion: “the question of how much Moscow will actually be able to profit from this story remains open.”

A key, longer-term factor is the West’s continuing sanctions pressure on Russia. Reiterovych emphasizes that the US “does not intend to lift sanctions on the RF,” so talk of some breakthrough access for Moscow to global markets remains speculation. The real “benefit” for the Kremlin, in his assessment, lies elsewhere: the war in the region gives it the opportunity to restore some previous contacts with the US on a new agenda. In this context, the article mentions a conversation between Trump and Putin, a meeting of delegations in Florida, and a pause in the trilateral track involving Ukraine. However, an important caveat for the Ukrainian audience is made: so far the main topic of these contacts is the Middle East, not Ukraine, and experts do not see “any negative changes” in the White House’s policy toward Kyiv.

One of the most striking storylines in the text is Ukraine’s new role as a security donor. The piece describes sending Ukrainian specialists and air-defense technologies to the Middle East to counter Iranian kamikaze drones. Reiterovych calls this a qualitative turning point: “For the first time since the Great War, Ukraine can offer the world not a plea, but a service. Not ‘give us weapons,’ but ‘we will help you defend yourselves — and you will help us’.” For the domestic audience this is presented as a symbolic status change — from an exclusively dependent recipient of military aid to a partner capable of “selling” its combat experience and technologies.

The emphasis is placed on the pragmatism of Middle Eastern customers: they care less about grand statements than about concrete results. Ukraine, with its experience repelling massed strikes of Russian missiles and drones, can offer “specific drones, specific specialists, measurable effect.” Successful application of Ukrainian solutions in a new theater of operations, the expert believes, can “change the image in the region” and lay the foundation for a more systematic Ukrainian presence in the Middle East. This, in turn, leads to an important, if not immediate, dividend: an increase in the country’s political weight in the eyes of allies and partners.

Another aspect Reiterovych insists on is the reputational blow to the Russian military-industrial complex. Against the background of two weeks of intense combat, he notes: “no aircraft were shot down by Russian systems.” For the Ukrainian reader this continues the long-familiar narrative of “debunking the myth of the second-largest army in the world,” and for regional states it is a clear signal about the real capabilities of Russian weaponry. The practical uselessness of Russian air-defense systems in the current conflict, highlighted in the text, undermines their attractiveness on international markets and reduces Moscow’s geopolitical influence, especially in countries where arms purchases traditionally flowed through the Russian channel.

The article pays special attention to the energy dimension of the conflict, linking it to the interests of China and the US. Reiterovych reminds readers that China’s economy critically depends on uninterrupted maritime supplies of energy resources, including those that pass through the Strait of Hormuz. Even with close ties to Tehran, Beijing cannot force the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps to lift the threat of a blockade. The ideal scenario for China is a rapid end to the conflict and the reopening of the key route.

However, the piece also considers another scenario: if the US, during a limited ground operation, gains control over strategic Iranian islands from which Hormuz is controlled, Washington would de facto become the main arbiter of tanker access to China. Such a turn, Reiterovych stresses, “strengthens the US” and weakens not only Iran but also Beijing, and consequently — indirectly — Moscow. For Ukraine this is an important factor: the fewer opportunities China has to maneuver in energy and support its autocratic allies, the weaker Russia’s strategic rear becomes.

The political scientist does not avoid assessing the domestic political dimension in the US. He sketches possible courses of action for a Trump administration — from continuing pinpoint strikes on Iranian targets and elite figures to a “limited ground operation” controlling Hormuz and Iran’s nuclear fuel reserves. In the Ukrainian perspective, a “successful Trump” who can present an impressive victory in the Middle East to the American public, on the one hand increases the chances of a tougher line on Russia, but on the other hand carries the risk that, for a quick final “big deal,” pressure will intensify not only on Moscow but also on Kyiv. The article clearly articulates a fear common in Ukrainian society about any “quick peace” that might be achieved at the cost of territorial or political concessions by Ukraine.

While Reiterovych concentrates on the Middle Eastern and transatlantic dimensions, Artur Kharitonov constructs an even broader frame. His key thesis: “everything happening in the world now is in one way or another connected to Ukraine.” In this view, Russia’s war against Ukraine, the US–Iran standoff, turbulence around Venezuela or Syria — are links in one large process: the global struggle between the US and China over the architecture of the 21st century. Ukraine, in this version, is not a marginal battlefield but one of the central fronts alongside the Middle East and the Western Hemisphere.

Kharitonov argues that despite “contradictory steps by Trump,” today’s America generally acts “on Ukraine’s side,” working systemically to “pull down certain ‘pillars’” of China’s network of authoritarian partners. Syria, Venezuela, Iran, Russia — all appear in the Ukrainian text as elements of one anti-Western configuration managed by Beijing or at least coordinated with it. That is why US struggles for influence in Caracas or for control over LNG flows are of fundamental importance to Ukraine: each Washington success in these distant regions reduces the resource and political buffer available to the Kremlin.

A separate section of the article is devoted to the raw-material dimension of the global confrontation. Kharitonov explains to the Ukrainian reader that control over Iranian resources and the US role in LNG supplies strengthen Washington as a key player in the global energy market. At the same time, the fall or serious weakening of Iran strikes at one of Beijing’s strategic trumps — access to rare-earth metals and energy resources through a network of friendly autocracies. The logic is simple: “The fewer levers of influence Xi Jinping retains, the harder it will be for China to indirectly support Russian aggression. And therefore, the sooner the war in Ukraine might end.”

Kharitonov devotes considerable attention to the China–Russia–Iran triangle as a long-term threat to Ukraine. The text describes the established system of military and technological cooperation, joint exercises, and logistics chains among these countries. He adds an important caveat: Beijing, in his assessment, understood Iran’s vulnerability and primarily relied on Russia and the DPRK as more “nuclearly protected” partners. In the Ukrainian discourse this serves as an additional argument against illusions about China’s “peacekeeping” role: Beijing, Kharitonov emphasizes, “never sought a quick end to our war” and “to some extent pushed Russia” toward aggression by supporting its resilience.

Regarding Iran’s future, Kharitonov outlines three main scenarios discussed in the article. The first — the fall of the regime and a deep shift in the regional balance of power — is acknowledged as unlikely in the short term. The second — a new status quo along the “Venezuelan scenario,” in which Tehran partially complies with US demands, softens its most aggressive foreign-policy actions, and gradually integrates into a changed system of constraints. The third — the preservation of the current weak but durable regime, capable of continuing destabilizing activity but with fewer resources and maneuverability.

For Ukraine, the text stresses, the most advantageous would be the first scenario, in which “the sooner the Iranian regime falls and the balance of power changes, the better.” However, experts admit it is more realistic to expect either the “Venezuelan” or an inertia-driven scenario. In both cases the key risk for Ukraine is spelled out clearly: if the US and its allies fail to achieve decisive strategic advantage, “the Russian war will continue,” because Moscow will retain channels for obtaining resources, technologies, and political support through the authoritarian network.

The article does not shy away from the complex topic of Ukraine’s perception in the Middle East. According to Kharitonov, historically many Arab states have seen Russia as a “friend,” partly due to the Soviet legacy and long-standing military-technical cooperation. Expecting a radical turn toward Kyiv in the short term, in his view, is unrealistic. Nevertheless, by providing partners in the region with air-defense technologies and frontline experience, Ukraine for the first time since the full-scale invasion appears as a “donor of security practices,” not only a recipient of aid. This does not automatically resolve the question of ending the war on its territory, but it opens new diplomatic and economic doors, including in other world regions.

Despite the geopolitical sweep of the analysis, the article constantly addresses the domestic Ukrainian reader. Several important messages can be read between the lines. First, sending specialists and weapons to the Middle East is politically risky but strategically justified, provided risks are managed competently and explained transparently to the public. Authorities, experts emphasize, should explain in advance the possible temporary weakening of domestic air defense in exchange for long-term gains such as increased international weight and additional arms deliveries.

Second, Ukrainian diplomacy must actively work to ensure that any future “big deals” over the Middle East and US–China–Russia relations are not made at Kyiv’s expense. The experience of 2019–2020, when Ukraine was drawn into American domestic politics, generated lasting skepticism toward “grand bargains” and toward Trump as a potential “great dealmaker.” This skepticism runs through every paragraph discussing possible breakthrough moves by Washington: the question is always — “who will pay the bill?”

Third, the article insists that Ukraine should maximize its agency. Unlike the familiar image of a “victim dependent on the will of great powers,” Kyiv is presented here as an active player capable of exporting military experience, reshaping its image, setting the agenda, and influencing alliance configurations. Strengthening Ukraine’s role as a security provider is an important element of this new subjectivity, as is its participation in the global struggle against authoritarian regimes tied to China.

A recurring motif of the publication is the linkage of the global and the local. Any storyline — be it a blockade of Hormuz, sanctions on Venezuela, control over LNG, or rare-earth metals — is translated into Ukrainian realities: what it means for Russia’s revenues, for China’s ability to support Moscow, for the price of a barrel, and ultimately for the duration and outcome of the war on the Dnipro. This approach reflects the “big-war optics” in which Ukraine now lives: the world is perceived as several interconnected fronts, and the outcome of each battle — in the Persian Gulf, the South China Sea, or Caracas — affects the trenches near Kherson or Kupiansk.

By nature the analysis published on Ukrinform (https://www.ukrinform.ua/rubric-world/4101532-dva-tizni-vijni-na-blizkomu-shodi-v-ukraini-zavilisa-novi-sansi.html) is far from a neutral news report. It is not a set of facts about missile strikes and losses, but a normative text with clearly stated preferred outcomes. A weakening or fall of the Iranian regime and a reduction of maneuvering space for China and its proxies are desirable. Scenarios in which Russia gains new financial and political resources due to energy turbulence or compromises over Iran are undesirable. Unacceptable are variants in which international pressure for a “quick end to the war” is concentrated primarily on Kyiv rather than Moscow.

The article concludes with a soberly Ukrainian summation. Ukraine’s reaction to the US–Iran war is not a panicked alarm about another hotspot of instability, but an attempt to incorporate that conflict into its own strategy of survival and victory. Kyiv seeks to use the situation to strengthen itself as a military, diplomatic, and technological actor, to further dismantle the myth of the power of Russian weaponry, to weaken Russia’s rear by striking the Beijing–Tehran–Moscow axis. And perhaps most importantly — to cement a new role for itself in the international system: not only as a recipient of aid, but as an exporter of security in a world where war has long since ceased to be confined to a single country or a single front.

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How the World Sees America Today: Trump's Iran War, Oil and a New Rift

In early March 2026, outside the United States Washington is talked about not so much in terms of "democracy versus authoritarianism" as in the language of missile barrages at Iran, spikes in oil prices, and anxious attempts by allies and partners to understand what "Trump's America 2.0" means for their own security and economies. In France there is debate over the scale of the American military deployment in the Middle East and whether the US is sliding toward a new war similar to Iraq. In Japan the US is seen at once as an indispensable shield and as a source of dangerous escalation capable of undermining the country's energy security. In South Africa the United States increasingly appears not as a distant guarantor of the liberal order but as an aggressive power that has entered into conflict with Tehran and simultaneously with South Africa's black majority.

The central thread in all of these discussions is the large-scale operation against Iran launched at the end of February by the administration of Donald Trump together with Israel, codenamed Epic Fury, which became the culmination of the largest American force buildup in the Middle East since 2003. French and Japanese analysts describe in detail how the United States brought carrier strike groups, strategic aviation and missile defense systems into the region, preparing an "important campaign of strikes on Iran," as Le Parisien wrote in an article about the "firepower" deployed by Washington in the region. That piece also emphasized that this demonstrative show of force is pushing Tehran toward retaliatory steps and increasing the risk of a large-scale regional war that could draw in European interests via energy and migration channels.

The French debate largely revolves around the question: is Washington repeating George W. Bush's path of 2003, or is this intervention a different kind of war in which precision strikes, cyber operations and remote escalation management play the decisive role. Strategists and former military officials, whose assessments are relayed by the French press, note that the US deployment in 2026 is "the most significant since the invasion of Iraq," but this time the political context is different: after years of "intervention fatigue" Washington's allies, especially in Europe, are much more cautious and demand a UN mandate or at least minimal international consensus. French experts in research center publications stress that striking Iran without approval from the UN Security Council undermines Paris's position, which in recent years has promoted an image of supporting Europe's "strategic autonomy" and the supremacy of international law. This puts French diplomacy in an awkward position: on one hand — close military cooperation with the US in NATO; on the other — public opinion in which memories of Iraq and Libya make trust in American "surgical operations" extremely limited.

If France views American strikes on Iran primarily through the prism of international law, balance of power and European autonomy, in Japan the focus shifts to three issues: energy security, the role of the US as the only real security guarantor, and the possible loss of Washington's global responsibility. Japanese think tanks and international affairs blogs analyze Operation Epic Fury in detail, linking it to the January US strike on Venezuela and seeing in this pairing not a chaotic reaction but a deliberate strategy of Trump 2.0: to reshape the global energy market by force and strengthen American control over key commodity flows. In one such analytical note in the form of a "geopolitical review," the author reconstructs a 58-day redeployment of B-2 bombers, carrier groups and US cyber and space assets from the Latin American theater to the Persian Gulf, treating this as a continuation of the logic of "energy wars," where the main targets include not only an adversary's military assets but also oil export infrastructure.

At the level of everyday economic reviews, Japanese research organizations estimate that for Tokyo more than 90% of oil imports remain tied to the Middle East, and an Iranian blockade of the Strait of Hormuz — which is now considered one of the key risks — could lead to a sharp rise in prices and a deterioration of Japan's trade balance, already hit once during the Ukraine crisis. One such review emphasizes that while the US itself is the world's largest oil producer and less vulnerable to a supply shock, for countries like Japan — where more than 80% of oil transits through Hormuz — the current war between Washington, Tel Aviv and Iran becomes a direct threat to the economy.

However, the Japanese debate is not limited to economics. Commentators, including in Christian and conservative media, closely follow Donald Trump's rhetoric, who promises to "end the war soon" and, according to US media, shows "personal interest" in the possible deployment of ground troops to Iran. A Japanese blog analyzing his statements notes that Trump simultaneously demonizes Iran as a "terrorist regime holding global oil hostage" and declares readiness to intensify strikes twentyfold if Tehran continues to block deliveries. For some Japanese authors this is a signal that the US may move from a "coercive operation" to an attempt at regime change, and therefore to long-term destabilization of the entire region — an outcome unacceptable for a country that depends vitally on stable access to Middle Eastern oil.

At the same time, Japanese civil society organizations and opposition parties on the left strongly condemn both the American-Israeli operation itself and Tokyo's position. A statement by the Association of Friendship with the Peoples of Asia and Latin America directly calls it an "imperialist aggressive war" aimed at regime change in Iran and the creation of a puppet government, and stresses that the US is once again using the issue of Iran's nuclear program as a pretext for military intervention. In another statement, from the Green Party, the action is called an "illegal attack," placed on the same level as the Russian invasion of Ukraine and growing Chinese pressure in the East and South China Seas. The authors of the document criticize the Japanese government for effectively supporting Washington's logic, increasing the risk of Japan being drawn into another foreign war and undermining the growing global movement for the prohibition of nuclear weapons. These statements show that for the Japanese left America is not only a guarantor against China but also the main source of "wars of choice" that threaten international law.

The South African perspective on the US today is almost entirely refracted through the prism of the war with Iran and the new round of tensions in bilateral relations. On one hand, economists and the business press warn that the conflict among the US, its ally Israel and Iran "is already sending shockwaves through global markets," increasing inflationary risks and worsening growth prospects for countries like South Africa that heavily depend on energy imports and are vulnerable to price volatility. In an analysis for the business outlet IOL, a KPMG economist emphasizes that the country "should not underestimate the potentially negative economic and business consequences of the American-Israeli attack on Iran," since rising oil prices and possible supply disruptions will inevitably lead to higher costs for fuel, transport and food, exacerbating an already fragile socio-economic situation.

On the other hand, at the political level South Africa is one of the loudest critics of American actions within the "Global South." As a review by the German foundation Deutsche Afrika Stiftung notes, President Cyril Ramaphosa, along with a number of other African leaders, condemned US and Israeli strikes on Iran as military actions carried out "without a UN mandate," stressing that Pretoria's principled position is the defense of the multilateral system and the supremacy of international law, even when it concerns a state with which South Africa has complicated relations. South African left-radical publications go even further, saying that the African National Congress "is barely clinging to a policy of non-alignment" in circumstances when Washington and Tel Aviv wage an aggressive war and Western economic pressure makes neutrality increasingly costly. In one article on an international Trotskyist portal, the war with Iran is described as part of a "global imperialist confrontation" into which Washington is trying to draw Africa, using it as a battleground for resources and political influence.

A separate storyline is the rapid deterioration of US–South Africa bilateral relations after Donald Trump's return to the White House. According to the Associated Press, on March 11 the South African government summoned the new US ambassador, Leo Brent Bozell III, a conservative activist appointed by Trump, after his remarks at a meeting with business leaders. The ambassador sharply criticized Pretoria's diplomatic ties with Iran and South Africa's policy of affirmative action favoring the black majority in access to jobs and business opportunities, calling it, in effect, anti-white. South Africa's foreign ministry viewed this as an unacceptable interference in internal affairs and a demonstration of disrespect for the historical legacy of the struggle against apartheid. The incident is widely discussed in local media as evidence that with Trump's return bilateral relations "have fallen to their lowest level since the end of apartheid," and that the White House increasingly perceives the ANC government as "anti-American."

Inside the country this fuels a long-standing debate over whether South Africa should continue to orient toward the "Western" camp or deepen ties with Iran, China and Russia within BRICS+. Supporters of the latter course emphasize that the US does not hesitate to use economic and diplomatic pressure, accusing South Africa of being "anti-Western" whenever Pretoria refuses to automatically support American military operations. Their opponents, mainly from business circles and the opposition, warn of risks to investment and trade: according to the business press, already "fragile indicators" of the South African economy are dealt another blow by the war with Iran and the related deterioration of relations with Washington.

Against the background of these South African debates it is interesting how France and Japan interpret the changed US foreign policy under Trump 2.0 differently. In French expert discourse one of the key elements is the new US National Security Strategy (NSS-2025), in which the Western Hemisphere unexpectedly comes to the fore, and the subtitle directly speaks of a "Trumpian amendment to the Monroe Doctrine" — an intensification of Washington's claims to dominance in its "near abroad." Scholars in Tokyo read the same documents and point out: while in the 2017 doctrine the Indo-Pacific, Europe and the Middle East preceded Latin America, priorities have now shifted, which means a redistribution of military resources. That is why Japanese analysts watch so closely how American forces are withdrawn from some theaters and concentrated in others — first in Venezuela, then in the Persian Gulf. For France, meanwhile, the "Trump doctrine" toward the Western Hemisphere signals possible conflicts of interest in the Caribbean and Latin America, where Paris also has historical and economic presence.

At the same time, a common theme emerges in both countries: Trump's return has led not so much to "isolationism" as to a much tougher, transactional approach. French strategic reports emphasize that America oscillates between tendencies toward self-restraint and the necessity to reaffirm leadership in the "democratic world," whereas Japanese texts speak more about the US now being "ready to redeploy troops and resources based on narrowly defined national interests, not always taking allies' signals into account." In both cases Washington appears as a power that is still needed and feared, but trusted less and less.

Also notable are moments where the views of France, Japan and South Africa unexpectedly converge. First, all three societies, albeit with varying degrees of firmness, stress the need to observe international law and the role of the UN. French and South African leaders in different forms remind that strikes without a Security Council mandate undermine the very idea of collective security, while Japanese left-liberal forces equate American actions in Iran with the Russian war against Ukraine and Chinese pressure in the East and South China Seas, insisting that criteria must be the same for everyone. Second, in all three countries the word "Iran" is almost automatically associated not only with the nuclear program but also with the Strait of Hormuz, oil prices and inflation — here economic interdependence makes Washington's war not a "distant conflict" but a factor of domestic politics.

Third, Paris, Tokyo and Pretoria in one way or another ask: can the world still consider the US a "responsible leader" if key decisions about war and peace are made in a logic of unilateral action that primarily looks to domestic political agendas? In France this question is voiced in reflections on the "decline of American leadership in the democratic world"; in Japan — through discussions about the need for a "Plan B" in case of US weakening or unpredictable policy turns; in South Africa — through debates on whether to further distance itself from Washington, risking economic ties, or attempt to "re-educate" the US via international institutions.

And yet it is precisely differences in national experiences and priorities that make the international conversation about the US so complex and ambiguous. For France, accustomed to seeing itself as a European military and diplomatic power, America is both partner and competitor; for Japan — an irreplaceable shield against China and at the same time a source of geopolitical turbulence threatening an import-dependent economy; for South Africa — a powerful but increasingly unsympathetic center of the global North that criticizes affirmative action and "unsanctioned" ties with Iran and Russia. The current war with Iran has only intensified these tensions, highlighting how differently regions of the world understand the "American role" in the 21st century.

Viewed from Washington, much of these foreign debates may seem like "ingratitude" or a misunderstanding of American intentions. But it is precisely in them — in French columns about the risks of a new Middle Eastern adventure, in Japanese anxieties about the Strait of Hormuz, and in South African outrage over Ambassador Bozell's remarks — that one hears what rarely reaches American audiences: the world still lives in the shadow of American power, but is increasingly unwilling to accept it uncritically and more often trying to develop its own local response to "Trump's America" and to the war it has brought back to the Middle East.

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Imperial Trap: US, Iran and the Cost of Strategic Overreach

Analysts and commentators from Turkey and Saudi Arabia increasingly describe Washington’s current policy toward Iran as a manifestation of imperial arrogance and strategic overreach. Publications advance the thesis that historical mistakes are being repeated: the US is allegedly being drawn into a destructive, quasi-colonial war whose purpose is doubtful and whose consequences will destabilize the entire region. Commentators question whether America has achieved its goals and point to Washington’s growing responsibility for escalation and regional instability, noting that a show of force risks becoming a self-destructive trap. This selection is based on materials from mobil.hurriyet.com.tr (Turkey) and www.youtube.com (Saudi Arabia).

“Democracy does not come by the bomb”: the Turkish view on the war, the US and its own fate

The speech by the leader of Turkey’s Republican People’s Party (CHP), Özgür Özel, at a meeting of the Socialist International provided the basis for an extended political analysis published in the Turkish outlet Hürriyet. Formally the topic is the Iranian crisis and the role of the US and Israel, but in fact the text constructs a typical “Ankara perspective”: discussion of the war is directly linked to security, the economy and democracy in Turkey itself.

The starting point is Özel’s key phrase: “Democracy cannot be imported with bombs. The future of Iran must be decided by its citizens.” This is not only an emotive slogan but a distillation of Turkey’s experience over recent decades — from the Iraq war and the devastation of Syria to deep internal polarization within Turkey.

Özel speaks online before the Socialist International and immediately sets a double frame: on one hand, a global crisis of the “normative, rules-based liberal system,” and on the other, the struggle for democracy in Turkey, which he sees as an integral part of European security. In his depiction, Turkey is not simply a country on the edge of the Middle East, but a “critical front” both for NATO/Europe’s security and for regional democratization. This continues the classic Turkish discourse of a “bridge between East and West” and a “front line,” but now packaged in an opposition, center-left framing.

Discussing Iran, Özel articulates a fundamentally anti-war stance: “Already in the first hours of the clashes we declared our opposition to war.” By this he emphasizes that the CHP opposes any scenarios of a military solution to the crisis, especially when such scenarios are presented as exporting democracy by force. He calls the Iranian regime “repressive, authoritarian, easily becoming violent toward its own citizens” — but immediately separates criticism of theocratic authoritarianism from support for external intervention.

In the same paragraph Özel refuses to consider the US and Israel as “apostles of democracy,” stressing that neither Washington nor Tel Aviv can claim a moral monopoly on issues of freedom and human rights. Thus he reproduces a persistent Turkish anti-Iraq and anti-Syria reflex: military operations under the slogans of democracy lead not to freedom but to chaos, civilian suffering and the undermining of regional stability.

The phrase “Democracy cannot be imported with bombs” in the Turkish context reads on several levels. It is a direct echo of 2003 and the US invasion of Iraq, which in Turkey is still perceived as a catastrophe for the whole region. It is the memory of the Syrian war, millions of refugees and the militarization of Turkey’s border policy. And it is a warning for the future: any talk of “restoring order” in Iran by military means evokes in Ankara the sense of a dangerous repeat scenario, the consequences of which neighboring countries — above all Turkey — will again have to bear.

A notable feature of Özel’s speech is that foreign policy constantly intertwines with domestic affairs. Discussing threats to global democracy, he turns to Turkey and says the CHP is “subject to very severe pressure and threats,” and that the country itself lives under “strengthening authoritarian governance.” Thus criticism of repression in Iran, of the “military democracy” of the US and Israel and of the global right-populist shift (including figures like Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu) is woven together with criticism of the domestic “pressure regime” in Turkey during the rule of the Justice and Development Party.

In this construction the war in Iran and US strategy become not only a foreign policy problem but also a kind of mirror for Turkish society. Özel emphasizes: “Democracy is the least costly way of ensuring peace in all its dimensions.” This thought is directed both against the militarization of foreign policy and against justifying domestic repression by appeals to security, terrorism and regional wars.

A separate layer of analysis relates to Turkey’s concrete interests. From a security standpoint, a possible war with Iran is described as a risk “to set our region and the whole world on fire.” According to Özel, Turkey finds itself geographically and within NATO too close to the epicenter of the crisis to avoid bearing its costs, while lacking sufficient control over decision-making in Washington and Tel Aviv. His thesis that the US, from Turkey’s point of view, has “drifted away from the role of a reliable ally and increasingly becomes a source of strategic problems” echoes the growing skepticism in Ankara toward American policy in recent years, but it is presented in a more “European” key — through the prism of norms, international law and collective security.

In economic terms Özel stresses that war hits working people first. He links the potential conflict over Iran with rising energy prices, accelerating inflation and growing unemployment in Turkey. For a country already enduring a severe inflationary crisis and falling real incomes, any escalation in the Middle East means additional pressure on household budgets. Hence his formula: defending peace and democracy means simultaneously defending the economic well‑being of people and vulnerable groups. In this logic the CHP’s anti-war position is not only a moral gesture but also the defense of the interests of the working class, low-paid groups and youth suffering from unemployment and high costs.

Finally, the third component is the question of regime and legitimacy. Özel draws a direct link: domestic authoritarianism, the militarization of foreign policy and a general rollback from the “normative, liberal, rules-based world order” are elements of a single process. He speaks of a global wave of “authoritarian darkness,” linking it to the international rise of right‑wing populism, including trends like MAGA in the US and Netanyahu’s policies in Israel. In the Turkish context such references read as a veiled comparison with his own leadership: without naming names, Özel places the Turkish experience alongside the worldwide drift toward hardline, ethno‑nationalist and force-based politics.

A noteworthy moment in his speech is the simultaneous criticism of Islamophobia and anti-Semitism. By placing these phenomena in the same row, Özel attempts to build rhetoric in which Turkey is not reduced either to religious identity or the usual Middle Eastern clichés. The anti‑Islamophobia message combines with distancing from classic anti‑Semitic discourse. This is important in relation to criticism of Israel: he attacks not Jewish identity but the specific policy of Israel’s leadership, thereby trying to avoid the traps of nationalist rhetoric.

Within the center‑left Turkish tradition Özel’s position occupies a familiar but updated place. He presents a pronounced anti‑imperialist critique — questioning the right of the US and some to speak on behalf of democracy, doubting the “export of freedom” by force — yet he does not turn this into an overarching anti‑Western discourse. On the contrary, he appeals to the rule of law, free trade and liberal norms as principles that the West itself has betrayed and that, in his view, must be restored. In this combination of anti‑imperialism and reliance on European legal standards the characteristic line of the Turkish opposition appears: criticism of US policy and some European governments without renouncing the values of liberal democracy.

Equally important is the explicit domestic address of the entire speech. Although formally Özel speaks about the war, the Socialist International and the global liberal order, his foreign platform also serves as a channel to address Turkish voters. The thesis that “my country Turkey today is one of the most critical fronts of this global struggle for peace and democracy” effectively amounts to a claim by the CHP to be not merely an opposition party but one of the global actors fighting authoritarianism. In this construction, Turkey as a regional neighbor and NATO member is transformed into a political field where a broader global trend is being decided.

Thus a double message forms: outwardly — Turkey presents itself as a partner and a support for those who want to restore “norms and rules” in the world system; inwardly — the CHP portrays itself as the bearer of this mission, opposing the authorities which, in its view, are integrated into a global wave of authoritarianism. The war in Iran and the role of the US become for Özel a convenient backdrop to speak simultaneously about external and internal legitimacy, about peace and democracy, about justice in international relations and social justice in Turkey’s labor market.

As a result, the Hürriyet piece turns from a simple retelling of another round of tensions around Iran into a political manifesto of the opposition. It shows how in Turkey the debate over war long ceased to be purely foreign policy: each new crisis is read through the prism of national democracy, economic pain and the struggle for the country’s place in a changing world order. Against this background Özel’s formula “democracy does not come with bombs” sounds not only as a critique of other people’s wars but as a warning: any alliance of war and democracy is a dangerous illusion for which the peoples of the region, including the Turks, pay too high a price.

America, Iran and the “attrition trap”: how the Gulf reads the 2026 war

A TV analysis on the Arabic channel Al‑Ghad, devoted to the question “Have the US achieved its goals in the war against Iran?”, at first glance looks like another segment about a bold statement by Donald Trump. In reality, however, it is a typical Gulf perspective — primarily Saudi, even if the kingdom’s name is not explicitly mentioned in the broadcast. The focus is on the consequences of the large‑scale US strike on Iran in 2026 and the risk of this campaign turning from a demonstration of force into an attritional trap for the American empire itself. The video analysis is available on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5ahh86vidI.

The segment’s starting point is a speech by Donald Trump in which he describes the strike on Iran’s Khark Island as “one of the most powerful air strikes in the history of the Middle East.” Khark in the program is called the “oil pearl of Iran” — not accidentally: in the Gulf audience’s consciousness it is not just a point on the map but a key node of Iran’s oil infrastructure and of the entire regional energy security logic.

It is through this lens that the main question of the piece is constructed: are the US really approaching their goals, or does the 2026 war with Iran risk turning into an “attrition trap” where Washington becomes bogged down in a long confrontation while the real cost is paid by the Gulf states, above all Saudi Arabia.

For the Saudi‑Gulf perception the US–Iran conflict has never been merely a foreign policy story: it is a matter of “security and survival.” The fighting takes place in the literal “backyard” of the kingdom — in the waters of the Persian Gulf, around the Strait of Hormuz, in close proximity to the world’s largest oil terminals. Therefore, when Trump talks about “freedom of safe passage for ships through Hormuz” and hints that he has for now “refrained” from striking Iran’s oil infrastructure but might revise that decision if Tehran tries to block the strait, the Saudi listener automatically asks two additional questions.

First: what will happen if Iran’s response or the US response to that response affects Aramco facilities in eastern Saudi Arabia or export terminals in Kuwait, the UAE, Bahrain or Qatar? Second: what will even a short disruption of shipping through Hormuz cost the kingdom’s oil revenues and the sustainability of Vision 2030, which relies on predictability in the energy market and investor confidence?

Hence the tone of the analysis: it clearly aligns with the cautious, realistic Saudi‑Gulf approach. First, the danger of any large military adventure in the Persian Gulf and distrust of promises of a “quick and decisive” war against Iran are emphasized — Iran is a major power with territorial depth, a network of allies and proxy structures across the region. Second, there is concern that the Gulf will become the arena of a protracted, attritional confrontation between Washington and Tehran — and that both “small” and “large” regional states will pay the price for this scenario.

Notably, the studio invites a former US assistant secretary of state. This is not merely a professional move by producers — in the Gulf countries there is a long tradition of using former American officials and experts as a kind of “translator” of the real limits of American power for the local audience. Through such guests several key messages are conveyed to viewers.

First and foremost, American military power is not absolute. Even if the US can deliver “one of the most powerful strikes in the region’s history” on a target like Khark Island, that does not make the war against Iran a short surgical operation. In the guest’s remarks, claims often surface about the impossibility of “quickly changing the regime in Tehran,” about the high cost of a full-scale campaign for the dispersed US bases and forces in the Gulf, and about the risk of involving Israel and activating pro‑Iranian structures in Yemen, Iraq, Syria and Lebanon.

Next follows the motif of allies’ vulnerability in the Gulf. The American guest, prompted by the host’s questions, explains that US bases in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar, the UAE and production and processing facilities are natural targets for Iran in case of escalation. In Saudi memory this immediately evokes the attacks on Aramco facilities in Abqaiq and Khurais in 2019, when the kingdom faced for hours the threat of a sharp drop in output.

Finally, through the ostensibly neutral question “Have the US achieved their goals?” a much more specific regional doubt is driven home: does the war achieve security goals for the Gulf states themselves? Does it weaken Iran as a source of threat, or rather push it toward greater radicalization and reliance on proxies? Is Washington ready to shoulder the burden of a prolonged campaign or, repeating the Afghan and Iraqi scenarios, will it ultimately withdraw, leaving behind chaos and a shattered balance of power?

An important node of reflection is the link between the war and Saudi Arabia’s own economic and strategic plans. In the logic of the piece, energy security is equated with the kingdom’s economic security. Saudi Arabia remains the world’s largest oil exporter, and a significant part of its shipments passes through the waters of the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz. Any serious disruption of navigation in this area means for Riyadh a sharp price spike, unstable contracts, possible shipment delays and, as a consequence, a blow to the pace of implementing Vision 2030, which relies on investment inflows, tourism development and large infrastructure projects.

Paradoxically, Trump’s statement that he has “for now” not touched Iran’s oil infrastructure, accompanied by a tough warning to Tehran about Hormuz, reads in Riyadh in both positive and negative terms. On one hand, direct pressure on Iran aimed at preventing a blockade of the strait aligns with the interests of Saudi Arabia and other Gulf exporters: their tankers must pass through the narrow maritime corridor unhindered. On the other hand — the prospect of the war expanding to mutual strikes on Iran’s oil facilities and, in response, on facilities in Saudi Arabia and neighboring monarchies paints a nightmare scenario for Riyadh: the Gulf turns into a zone of exchange of strikes against the region’s “oil heart.”

Against this backdrop, the segment also reflects a new line in Saudi foreign policy in recent years: the desire to secure for itself the role of mediator and architect of regional détente rather than the battlefield of somebody else’s war. Talks with Iran in Baghdad and the subsequent agreement signed in Beijing in 2023 are integrated into the kingdom’s growing posture: rely less solely on an “American force solution,” more on regional diplomatic channels, even with former rivals, and, where possible, avoid a frontal US‑Iran confrontation in close proximity to Saudi shores.

An integral part of this approach is the historical memory of previous American wars in the Middle East. This is not stated outright in the piece but the context is clear for the Saudi viewer. The Gulf War of 1991 removed the immediate military threat from Saddam Hussein’s regime but led to a long-term presence of a significant American contingent on Saudi soil, which later became one of the reasons for the radicalization of parts of society. The 2003 invasion of Iraq, on one hand, eliminated a regime hostile to Riyadh, and on the other — destroyed the balance of power, knocking Iraq out of an “Arab counterweight” to Iran and opening the way for Tehran’s dominance in Baghdad.

From this experience the kingdom concluded: an empire can easily destroy an existing regional arrangement but is far from guaranteed to build a stable new order on the ruins. In this logic the “war with Iran in 2026” referred to in the report dangerously resembles the Iraq scenario: perhaps a partial weakening of a hostile state, but simultaneously the risk of chaos, collapse of institutions, strengthening of unscrupulous actors and an unpredictable rearrangement of the balance of power.

A special place in the analysis is given to the cultural‑media aspect. Although Al‑Ghad is financed from Egypt and the UAE, it targets a broad Arab audience in which residents of Saudi Arabia and the Gulf countries are a key group. This is evident in the rhetoric and emphasis. Hosts and experts speak a language born of the experience of “managed stability” and the bitter lessons of “creative chaos” in Iraq, Syria, Libya and Yemen. Therefore, any phrasing like “one of the most powerful strikes in the history of the Middle East” in this discourse sounds not only as a slogan about US power but as an alarming signal about the potential loss of control over the situation.

Another important cultural note is the perception of the Strait of Hormuz as the shared fate of all Gulf monarchies. The Saudi viewer understands well that even a partial closure of the strait, let alone its mining or massive attacks on tankers, would lead to an instant jump in oil prices and the risk of export disruptions. The experience of the war in Yemen and attacks on ships in the Red Sea has only heightened the painful sensitivity to maritime transit routes.

The image of the United States in this media mirror is far from the former perception of an “almighty guarantor of security.” America is shown as a great power with its own constraints: domestic politics, the electoral cycle, Congress, public opinion tired of “endless wars.” For the Saudi elite and society this resonates with the evolution of views on Washington after 2011: the United States remains the most important partner but is no longer seen as an automatic and unconditional “umbrella” of security.

What distinguishes such analytical material from a simple news brief is above all the framing of questions. A news item would have confined itself to repeating Trump’s words about Khark, listing the struck targets and reactions from Tehran and Washington. The analysis turns this into the occasion for an internal Gulf conversation: not only “what did the US achieve?” but “what did we achieve, or what do we risk losing?” It uses the American expert figure not as a source of numbers and details but as a tool to demonstrate the limits of American willingness to engage in a protracted confrontation and its readiness to truly defend allies to the end.

Finally, attention is paid not only to the military but also to the economic rationale behind the strike on Khark Island. In news terms the island might appear only as a military target. Here it is embedded in the context of the global oil architecture: prices, flows of crude, production capacities, futures, investor confidence and the sustainability of economic transformation programs in Saudi Arabia and neighboring countries are discussed.

It is in this combination of military, economic and historical perspectives that the Gulf — and to a large extent Saudi — logic of the piece emerges: the US war with Iran is seen not only as a possible “attrition trap” for the American empire but as a far more immediate and dangerous trap for the states living in the shadow of this conflict. For the Gulf countries, and above all for Saudi Arabia, the bet today is to turn themselves from a battlefield into a venue for a deal and negotiations. And the louder statements like “the most powerful strike in the history of the region” sound, the more pressing Riyadh’s task becomes to keep its own space from once again becoming the arena of someone else’s war.

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How the world outside the US debates Washington: Iran, Ukraine and the "weary hegemon" through Turkey's...

In early March 2026, discussions about the United States in Ankara, Kyiv and Beijing revolve around a single cluster of topics: the US and Israel’s war against Iran and its security consequences, Washington’s role in attempts to end the war in Ukraine, and the broader question of whether America remains a reliable and predictable leader or is turning into an impulsive power whose decisions others must guard against. Each of the three capitals talks about Washington differently, but a common thread runs through all three debates: the US is increasingly seen less as a “global arbiter” and more as a player that forcefully pushes its interests, sometimes at the expense of its allies.

The biggest new factor is the war with Iran. In Turkey it instantly became a domestic security issue: US and Israeli strikes on Iran, Iranian retaliatory missiles and their interception over Turkish territory have prompted Turkish commentators to speak of the US as a force dragging the region into conflict without regard for neighbors’ risks. Against reports of Iranian missile interceptions over Kahramanmaraş and Gaziantep, official Ankara condemned the US strikes on Iran while simultaneously demonstrating readiness to defend its skies against any missiles, regardless of origin. Turkish press reviews emphasize that Turkey found itself literally “under fire from someone else’s war,” a war initiated primarily by Washington and Tel Aviv, not Ankara. Turkish diplomacy is trying to maintain balance: Ankara is a NATO member on one hand, and on the other it openly states that it does not accept the logic of US and Israeli “preventive strikes” that endanger regional stability. Against this backdrop, Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan earlier warned that Iran’s nuclear program and general escalation could trigger an arms race in the Middle East, and pro-government outlets like Yeni Şafak use this thesis to justify the need for an independent Turkish defense architecture and distancing from Washington’s riskiest moves. (en.wikipedia.org)

Ukraine, by contrast, views the war in Iran through the prism of concern: might it become a reason for the US to divert attention and resources away from supporting Kyiv. Ukrainian analytical pieces from late winter and early spring say the world is entering a phase of deep instability, where the war in Ukraine intertwines with political crises inside the US and a new conflict hotspot in the Middle East. One 2026 forecast emphasizes the risk of a prolonged war in Ukraine coinciding with an escalation between Washington and Beijing over Taiwan and now a protracted Iranian crisis, which could lead to the “dispersion” of American power and to Ukraine ceasing to be Washington’s top priority. (tsn.ua)

In China, the war with Iran has prompted broader conclusions about the style of American foreign policy. Chinese commentators, including prominent political scientists, see US actions as an example of Washington using allies as footholds and not hesitating to break diplomatic norms. In an article published on a Chinese news portal, political scientist Zheng Yongnian of the Chinese University in Hong Kong (Shenzhen) notes that it is widely believed in China that the US “is using Israel as a springboard” for a war with Iran. Official Chinese media in editorials write that striking Iran at a moment when diplomatic contacts are still ongoing creates “an alarming precedent: diplomacy becomes an instrument subordinated to the will of the dominant power, rather than a platform for equal negotiations between sovereign states.” Former Chinese military officer turned independent commentator Sun Zhongping formulates a conclusion often quoted in the Chinese segment: “For China the strategic takeaway is very simple: you cannot assume your opponent will play by the rules.” (wenxuecity.com)

The second major block of debates in all three countries is Washington’s role in the war in Ukraine and in attempts to impose peace. For Ukraine this is, evidently, a matter of survival. In late 2025 and early 2026 Ukrainian media were dominated by debates over the so‑called “Trump plan” to end the war. According to Ukrainian press citing Western and Ukrainian insiders, Donald Trump’s administration offered Kyiv a 28‑point plan that many Ukrainian analysts and parts of the American establishment considered clearly tilted toward Moscow: it involved de facto recognition of Russian gains, time‑limited security guarantees, and pressure on Kyiv to make territorial concessions. One Ukrainian analytical piece stresses that this plan forces Ukraine into a “hard choice” and creates a dangerous precedent for the US: a country claiming to defend the international order would be legitimizing the forcible seizure of territory in Europe. (bastion.tv)

A characteristic detail in the Ukrainian debate is attention to Washington’s pressure tactics. Political scientist Volodymyr Fesenko, in an interview with a Latvian outlet discussing the American peace initiative, acknowledges that “the pressure was last week, when a US representative comes and says ‘within the next few days you must agree to the United States’ peace plan’,” recalling that US officials have previously arrived in Kyiv with ultimata, including financial conditions for compensation for aid already provided. For part of the Ukrainian expert community, the US in this context acts not only as the main military ally but also as an actor pushing toward a compromise dangerously close to a “frozen conflict” and loss of some sovereignty in exchange for short‑term stabilization. (ukr.lsm.lv)

At the same time, a pragmatic view remains in Ukraine: without the US the war is unlikely to end on terms acceptable to Kyiv. Former US presidential special representative for Ukraine Keith Kellogg, in a discussion at Davos frequently cited by Ukrainian media, said that if Ukraine “survives this winter” and enters spring, “the advantage will be on its side,” and the war could end by autumn 2026. Ukrainian commentators interpret these statements as a signal that Washington still sees a scenario in which intensified support and pressure on Russia could lead to a deal more favorable to Ukraine — while also reminding that there are other voices within the US administration pushing for a quicker “resolution” at the expense of concessions from Kyiv. (rbc.ua)

If Ukraine debates the US through the lens of its own future and possible borders, China uses the Ukrainian issue as part of a broader picture of American behavior. Chinese analytical pieces on China’s role in Russia’s war against Ukraine emphasize that Washington, on one hand, is trying to deter China from supporting Moscow, and on the other is simultaneously unleashing a new war in the Middle East, sending mixed signals about its priorities. At a recent MFA press briefing, Chinese Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Mao Ning responded to a question about why Beijing comments differently on Iran and Ukraine. In Chinese discourse this is explained by Beijing’s view that the US plays a far more destabilizing role in the Middle East, whereas in Ukraine, Chinese officials claim, responsibility is shared among Russia, NATO and the US, which “ignored Russia’s legitimate security concerns.” This narrative allows Beijing to simultaneously criticize Washington as a source of chaos and present itself as a proponent of “political settlement” and a “multipolar order.” (zh.wikipedia.org)

Turkish press approaches the US role in the Ukrainian war more cautiously than Ukrainian or Chinese media. For Ankara, Kyiv is an important partner and recipient of arms deliveries, but Moscow remains a key energy and political player in the region. Turkish commentary on the war increasingly argues that the US, under slogans of supporting democracy, is actually fighting for a redistribution of influence in the Black Sea region, and that an excessively hardline anti‑Russian stance by Washington could harm Turkey’s own interests, including stability in Syria, the Caucasus and the Black Sea. Turkish authors link the Ukrainian conflict and the war in Iran into a single picture: in their view, the US acts like a “military‑diplomatic arsonist‑firefighter,” stretching its commitments across multiple conflicts and then turning nearest allies into frontlines, exposing them to risk.

Against this backdrop, another common theme arises in all three countries: doubts about the durability of American leadership and discussions that Europe and regional powers must take on more responsibility. The Ukrainian outlet “Європейська правда,” analyzing the February Munich Security Conference, noted that the “key visionary leader” there appeared to be French President Emmanuel Macron, who laid out reforms Europe needs to withstand pressure not only from Russia and China but also the US. His idea was that Europe should play a more direct role in any peace settlements and not rely on the US president — in that piece referring to Donald Trump — to automatically share Europe’s security vision. Ukrainian commentators saw in this not only criticism of Washington but also a potential resource: the more active Europe is, the more options Kyiv has in negotiations with the US and Russia. (eurointegration.com.ua)

In China the idea of a “weary hegemon” is used to contrast the American model of leadership with China’s own: while, as one popular portal writes, “America is busy with wars,” China is busy with “meetings and the economy.” In an article on the Sina platform authors juxtapose US defense spending — including an anecdotally presented episode that in September 2025 the US defense secretary allegedly approved multimillion‑dollar purchases of premium seafood for the military department — with China’s “rational” investment policy, which prioritizes domestic modernization, scientific and technological development and infrastructure. This contrasting image is presented as an illustration of the degradation of American state governance and the growing divide between a “warring America” and a “building China.” (sina.cn)

In Turkey the debate about a “new order” is intertwined with traditional wariness toward any external patrons. Politicians and commentators close to the ruling party, amid the Iranian crisis and events on the Ukrainian front, are intensifying rhetoric about the need for Turkey’s “strategic autonomy”: in their view, the country cannot fully rely on either the US and NATO or on Russia and China. The interception of Iranian missiles over Turkish cities is used as an argument: while the US and Israel pursue their objectives, it is Turkey that bears the risk of falling debris and possible retaliatory strikes. This feeds a popular idea in Turkish society that Ankara should remain in NATO but simultaneously expand its own capabilities as much as possible — from missile defense to diplomatic maneuvering between blocs. (en.wikipedia.org)

Overall, looking at these three countries together produces a paradoxical image of the US. For Ukraine, Washington remains a vital guarantor but also a hard negotiator ready to press for a deal convenient primarily to the White House. For Turkey, the US is an ally it cannot abandon but also a source of risks that drags the region into dangerous wars while ignoring Turkish concerns. For China, America is the main rival and at the same time an example of how a former hegemon, unable to abandon coercive methods, slowly undermines its own authority, opening space for “alternative centers of power.”

What unites all three debates is one thing: nowhere is the US still perceived as an unquestioned arbiter. In Ankara, Kyiv and Beijing Washington is spoken of in terms of interests, deals and risks, not values and common projects. At the same time each capital calculates in its own way how to use or restrain American power: Ukraine — so as not to lose the chance for a just peace; Turkey — so as not to become the battlefield of others’ wars; China — to accelerate the shift to a world where the US is only one center of power among others, not the only one. It is in this diversity and, simultaneously, in a shared fatigue with American wars and initiatives that a new stage in global perceptions of the US can be seen.

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"Washington in the Crosshairs: How Germany, China and Russia Debate the New U.S

In March 2026, discussions about the United States in Berlin, Beijing and Moscow unexpectedly converged sharply around a single set of themes: the U.S. and Israeli strike on Iran, the ensuing escalation in the Persian Gulf, and the broader picture of how Washington is reshaping its strategy — from the Middle East to Europe and Taiwan. Everyone is talking about the United States, but in different ways: for Germany it is primarily a question of dependence and distancing; for China — visible confirmation of "military hegemony" and, at the same time, a convenient backdrop for comparing its own achievements; for Russia — another piece of evidence that the United States is cementing a confrontational course under the new National Security Strategy. The thread running through the debates is doubt that America is still capable of, and above all willing to be, a "responsible leader" of the world system.

The starting point for European and Middle Eastern debates was the joint U.S.-Israeli strike on targets in Iran on February 28, which sparked a surge of commentary in Germany. A study by the analytic center TRENDS Research & Advisory emphasizes that Berlin found itself between solidarity with Western allies and a growing fear of escalation in the Middle East: Germany "balances" between support and calls for restraint and a return to diplomacy, seeing the crisis as a test of its entire foreign policy. The report notes that Chancellor Friedrich Merz's visit to Washington and his meeting with Donald Trump in early March involved not only discussions of security but also energy risks — from Iranian oil to uranium and global energy prices — which makes the United States a key but problematic partner for Europe as a whole and for Germany in particular according to the TRENDS Research & Advisory study.(trendsresearch.org)

Nervousness in the German debate is amplified by a sense of a long-term U.S. drift "inward." Time magazine quotes Merz warning of a "deep fissure" between Europe and the United States and saying that America "will not be strong enough to go it alone" — a formulation that German commentators read in two ways: the U.S. cannot handle global crises without allies, and Europe is dissatisfied with the role of perpetual junior partner, dependent on Washington's decisions much more than it would like. In German commentary around the Munich Security Conference this idea recurs as a refrain: the rupture of transatlantic trust, which surveys by Körber-Stiftung and Pew have documented in detail, combines with the realization that without the American "nuclear umbrella" and NATO resources, Europe is not yet ready for strategic autonomy Time magazine wrote in detail about this warning from Merz.(time.com)

At the same time, there are voices in Germany opposing automatic support for any U.S. use of force. According to a March survey by Infratest dimap, 58% of Germans consider the U.S. strikes on Iran unjustified, and this shift is made visible by many opinion columns: they link fatigue from endless military crises in the Middle East with déjà vu over the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Some commentaries suggest: if Washington continues to act primarily by military logic, calls for a "European army" and strategic separation will inevitably grow louder. In this sense the discussion of the U.S. in the German press is ambivalent: America is simultaneously a vital ally and an uncontrollable source of risk, and Berlin's policy is a constant attempt to draw an invisible red line beyond which support would turn into open distancing a survey on Germany's reaction to the war with Iran is cited in materials on international reactions to the conflict.(en.wikipedia.org)

In China the same bundle of themes — Iran, the Persian Gulf, rising energy prices — is viewed differently. Chinese commentators traditionally use examples of American foreign policy to illustrate "unilateral hegemony," but in early March this fit into a broader debate comparing the potential of the U.S. and the PRC. In a major piece on the financial platform Sina, a fresh report by the U.S. Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) on Chinese technologies is discussed: the article's authors emphasize that, according to the American think tank itself, Beijing has gained "asymmetric tactical advantages" in areas like AI and drones, but has "not yet overturned" the U.S. military technological superiority. A Chinese commentator, citing the country's participation in hundreds of international standard-setting committees, concludes that a strategy of "complete decoupling" from China in the tech sphere — sometimes articulated in the U.S. — has already failed, and now Washington is forced to seek a more complex, selective approach a detailed breakdown of the CSIS report and the Chinese response was published by Sina Finance.(finance.sina.com.cn)

A characteristic feature of the Chinese discussion is the ironic relish for American internal contradictions against a backdrop of moralizing about budgetary discipline and social responsibility. In one popular note that spread across major aggregators, the author highlights an episode from a U.S. oversight report about how the Pentagon spent nearly $9 million on "delicacies of lobsters and king crabs" on the eve of a new Middle Eastern campaign, and contrasts this with American statements about the need for "austerity" and "containing China" in high-tech areas. This device — portraying the U.S. as a hypocritical preacher who fails to meet its own standards — has long been standard in Chinese propaganda media, but now it is bolstered by real content from American budget debates, which gives the rhetoric extra weight an analysis of U.S. military spending and the "lobster scandal" is cited in a Chinese analytic piece comparing U.S. and PRC plans.(sina.cn)

It is also important that Beijing is closely tracking legislative steps by the U.S. Congress regarding Taiwan. Chinese media widely quote the "Taiwan Protection Act" passed in February, which provides for the exclusion of Chinese representatives from international financial mechanisms in the event of a security threat to the island or a change in its political system. Chinese commentaries call this a "financial blockade in reserve" and part of a broader pressure strategy in which sanctions and control over dollar infrastructure are presented as Washington's main lever. Official spokespeople of the Chinese Foreign Ministry carefully turn this line back against the U.S.: they claim Washington is "destroying" international norms of sovereign equality, turning the system into an instrument of unilateral punishment, and thereby undermining trust in the dollar as the world's reserve currency. On domestic platforms such criticism resonates easily against debates about ensuring China's "financial sovereignty" an overview of new U.S. initiatives regarding Taiwan and Beijing's reactions is given in an analysis of the evolution of Taiwan–U.S. relations.(zh.wikipedia.org)

The Russian debate about the United States in early 2026 revolves around two major storylines: the new U.S. National Security Strategy and the prospects of the war in Ukraine. In an EADaily article "Masks Off: What Russia Should Do in Response to the U.S. National Security Strategy?" the author argues that "multipolarity under Trump" allows for the existence of major powers not formally controlled by Washington, but presumes an obligation for those powers to "mind their place" and acknowledge American superiority. The Russian expert points out that the document practically omits the issue of strategic stability between nuclear superpowers, which means, he says, that the U.S. is consciously moving away from parity logic toward a logic of coercion, where nuclear deterrence is only the backdrop for pressure in other areas. This, in his view, makes the confrontation protracted and systemic, not confined to the Ukrainian theater alone an analysis of the new American strategy and its reception in Moscow was published on EADaily.(eadaily.com)

Similar motifs appear in more academic reviews, for example in a Carnegie Russia Eurasia report on why the fifth year of the war in Ukraine "will not be the last." The author describes American foreign policy as one of the key factors cementing the Russian inclination to continue the confrontation: the belief that the West, and above all the U.S., seeks to inflict a "strategic defeat" on Russia makes any compromises toxic in the domestic discourse. At the same time, the report notes that for Washington, ending military aid to Ukraine would be a sign of weakness, and therefore the course of supporting Kyiv — while also trying to restrain escalation from becoming a direct clash — will continue. Russian commentators interpret this as a desire by the U.S. to move the conflict into a plane of long-term attrition, where Ukraine is an instrument rather than a subject, which in turn pushes Moscow to seek alternative channels of pressure on European energy and political systems this view of the link between U.S. foreign policy and Russian strategy is set out in Carnegie Endowment analysis.(carnegieendowment.org)

Interestingly, Russian regional outlets also connect the American line to local problems. In a piece in Nizhegorodskaya Pravda about Russia's international strategy, the author recalls how, in his formulation, "the U.S. is strangling Russia's energy sector," linking sanctions, price caps and pressure on European partners with today's budgetary and social difficulties. Such a picture — America as an external economic strangler — helps explain to the audience why Russian foreign policy appears so tough and why the emphasis is on pivoting to Asia and the global South. Here American "hegemony" is no longer an abstract category but a direct cause of alleged income declines and growing uncertainty this line of argument is detailed in Nizhegorodskaya Pravda's column on Russia's international strategy.(pravda-nn.ru)

Running through all three countries are also more "technical" debates about the United States — from the role of the American economy in global commodity prices to technological and space competition. Russian business portals tracking the uranium market quote Donald Trump's statements about intentions to increase U.S. nuclear power capacity fourfold by 2050, linking this to rising uranium prices in the second half of 2025 and subsequent fluctuations after news of increased mining in Uzbekistan. For Russia this is an example of how American strategic decisions in energy directly affect export revenues and budget forecasts, and a stimulus to more actively seek Asian and Middle Eastern markets for its uranium and technologies these links between U.S. plans and commodity markets are covered by the Polpred portal, which focuses on the U.S. economy.(usa.polpred.com)

Space competition, in turn, is presented as a symbol of a broader technological race. Russian and Chinese reviews devoted to 2026 launches place the ambitions of NASA, China's space program and plans of other players — from India to private companies — side by side. In such pieces the U.S. still figures as a benchmark, but no longer as an unconditional leader: the emphasis is that the monopoly is gone, and successes by Beijing and, to a lesser extent, Moscow are changing the architecture of outer space. German outlets, discussing the same theme in the context of European programs, again return to the dependency/autonomy issue: European missions largely depend on cooperation with the U.S., but Washington's political unpredictability is pushing for the creation of independent capabilities RBC Trends wrote about general trends in U.S., China and Russia launch activity in 2026.(trends.rbc.ru)

Bringing these threads together, one can say that Germany, China and Russia have developed three different but in some ways overlapping lenses on the United States. For Germany, America is both an indispensable security ally and a source of strategic instability; talk of a "deep fissure" in transatlantic relations becomes both a means of pressing Washington and a way to mobilize domestically for European autonomy. For China, the U.S. is the main, but no longer the only, center of power trying to contain Beijing's rise through sanctions, export controls and military alliances, yet increasingly displaying internal contradictions and resource limitations; against that backdrop Chinese authors enjoy contrasting American "imperial habit of force" with their own model of gradual influence-building, from technological standards to financial instruments. For Russia, the United States is not just a foreign-policy opponent but a structural "other," whose existence justifies long-term mobilization and rejection of the old idea of a "common European home."

And yet, in all three cases, if you look closely at the details, one commonality stands out: despite accusations of hegemony and claims of unilateralism, the United States remains the central reference point. German debates about autonomy, Chinese talks about technological sovereignty, and Russian reflections on multipolarity all revolve around the need to learn to live and act in a world where America is no longer omnipotent but remains critically important. It is this tension — between the desire to reduce dependence on the U.S. and the impossibility of ignoring its influence — that makes today's foreign debates about Washington so sharp.

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World Eyes Washington Warily: How Australia, India and South Korea Are Discussing Today's...

In recent weeks the topic of the United States has again taken center stage in discussions from Canberra to New Delhi and Seoul, but almost everywhere the conversation is no longer about the "leader of the free world" and is instead about an increasingly sharp, transactional and unpredictable partner. The return of "America First" to foreign policy, a large military buildup in the Middle East, a new wave of trade investigations and tariff threats, and a push toward tough bilateral deals all create a general nervous backdrop. Against this background each country is trying in its own way to answer the same question: how to protect its interests in a world where Washington is again prepared to use force and economic pressure with few reservations.

One common theme running through commentary in Australia, India and Korea is a sharp shift in the character of American leadership. Australian analysts write bluntly that "confidence in the United States has noticeably weakened" after Donald Trump's return and the revival of his "America First" doctrine. A piece in The New Daily emphasizes that when U.S. policy becomes more "transactional and less predictable," faith in an alliance that until recently seemed an "unshakeable foundation of regional security" naturally erodes. The paradox is noted: U.S. military power has not disappeared, but partners increasingly doubt whether it will be used in their interest if Washington treats relationships primarily as deals rather than obligations. On another flank of the Australian spectrum, the IPAN group, traditionally inclined toward pacifism and critical of the alliance, is urging the government to "clearly state that it will not support a U.S. strike on Iran" and to reject "submissive following of American foreign policy," stressing the need for "an independent course in international affairs." In these two positions—moderate mainstream and radical critique—one nerve is visible: the fear that too-tight alignment with an increasingly hardline Washington could drag the country into a war Australian society is not prepared for.(thenewdaily.com.au)

In India the discussion of the U.S. is much more ambivalent: there is talk simultaneously of unprecedented economic opportunities and of a new trade threat. On one hand the business community is excitedly discussing the ambitious U.S.–India goal to raise bilateral trade to $1 trillion. Indian business outlets stress that the U.S.–India Business Council sees this not just as a number but as an attempt to "tie trade to geopolitics," turning economic partnership into an instrument of closer strategic alignment. Recent pieces emphasize that Washington's February agreements to partially reduce tariffs on a range of Indian goods are viewed as the beginning of a "new era" in relations. But alongside these are alarming reminders: not long ago Trump raised tariffs on Indian goods first to 25% and then to 50%, punishing Delhi for purchases of Russian oil. In a New Year analysis AajTak called a "tariff war with America" one of the key challenges of 2026, as well as a possible scenario in which the Indian economy faces double pressure—an energy crisis and American sanctions.(whalesbook.com)

Today, March 12, this dual mood received new confirmation. Hindi media report that the Trump administration has launched investigations into 16 key U.S. trading partners, and India is on that list. Commentators call this a "blow to India" that could end in a new wave of tariffs. Familiar skepticism is heard on broadcasts and in articles: Washington simultaneously promises a trillion dollars in trade turnover and launches a pressure mechanism that could at any moment wipe out the benefits. Journalists draw parallels with 2019–2020, when India also expected a "strategic partnership" but received in response higher tariffs and the threat of sanctions for deals with Moscow.(hindi.webdunia.com)

The military line of American policy is another major storyline that resonates differently in these countries but everywhere creates a sense of growing turbulence. At the end of January the largest U.S. force buildup in the Middle East since 2003 began: carrier strike groups, air defense systems, expanded bases—all against the backdrop of escalation with Iran and the brutal suppression of protests inside that country. English‑language and Indian press describe this campaign as a return to the logic of "power projection": Washington is showing readiness not only for strikes on Iran's nuclear infrastructure but also for joint operations with regional partners, up to direct attacks on maritime and land targets. For the Indian economy the Iranian crisis is not only a distant conflict; analysts at ICRA in a recent review name a possible U.S.–Iran war as one of the key risks to growth in financial years 2026–2027. If oil prices rise well above baseline forecasts, the current account deficit and inflationary pressures could sharply increase, which immediately affects the tone of commentary: Indian columnists speak less about democratic values and more about the price per barrel.(en.wikipedia.org)

The Australian discussion of the same Middle East line is colored differently—here the question is about complicity. As early as last year Foreign Minister Penny Wong told the Senate that the government supports U.S. actions aimed at preventing Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons. At the same time, reports of Australian military personnel aboard an American submarine that sank an Iranian frigate off the coast of Sri Lanka have prompted questions about how deeply the country is involved in a possible "major war" around Iran. Against this background IPAN's statement that Australia should not support a U.S. strike on Iran looks not like a marginal slogan but a reflection of growing public discomfort. The Guardian's analysis says that belief in the U.S. as a responsible leader has "evaporated," and independent decision‑making on questions of war and peace has become for part of the political class almost a matter of survival for their democratic mandate.(en.wikipedia.org)

Against this background South Korea shows an interesting duality: there is less open, sharp criticism of Washington in leading media than in Australia or India, but many commentaries on domestic politics and regional security include the thought that the American factor has become even more unpredictable. Experts are actively discussing the risk that a new wave of U.S. isolationism could lead to a revision of military commitments to allies, including Seoul. Notably, in Korean theological and public‑interest publications that discuss global politics, American foreign policy often serves as a backdrop for debates about Korea's own "statehood" and the need to prepare for a world where even a long‑standing ally may act purely on its own calculations. Although such texts rarely focus exclusively on the U.S., they increasingly describe American policy as another source of uncertainty rather than a guarantor of stability.(kr.christianitydaily.com)

The economic dimension of American policy adds another layer of similarities and differences. In India, besides tariffs, there is active discussion of a sharp rise in tourist and education flows to the U.S.: Indian travelers have already become the second‑largest foreign market for American tourism, which Indian reports link to an eventful cycle—from the 2026 World Cup to the 250th anniversary of American independence. This creates a strange contrast: on one hand the possibility of new trade barriers, on the other growing "soft" societal ties. Business press increasingly argues that it may be precisely human and commercial ties that can "cement" relations so that even harsh tariffs cannot destroy them.(tv9hindi.com)

Australia approaches the economic side of the alliance more pragmatically and, to some extent, cautiously. On one hand, AUSMIN joint documents emphasize a "historic partnership" in critical minerals and high technologies, built on a framework agreement signed by Trump and Prime Minister Anthony Albanese. This concerns long‑term integration of defence‑industrial bases, an expanded presence of U.S. Marines in northern Australia, and the creation of new financial mechanisms to support joint projects. On the other hand, Australian commentators warn that deeper industrial and military integration makes the country vulnerable to political swings in Washington, whether a change of priorities in the White House or internal battles in Congress. They remind readers that "new forms of dependence"—on another country's industrial base, on the political will of another parliament—could result in Australia being tied to long‑term obligations to America by the mid‑2030s, whose interests in the Indo‑Pacific may no longer automatically align with Australian ones.(foreignminister.gov.au)

As for similarities among the three countries, the main point is that none of them sees the U.S. as a "one‑dimensional" partner anymore. In Australia military dependence combines with growing distrust of Washington's political course; in India there is a strategy of drawing closer to America to balance China while simultaneously experiencing painful trade pressure; in South Korea there is gratitude for long‑term security and anxiety about a possible U.S. turning inward. A common theme in analysis is an attempt to build "insurance" against sharp turns in American policy: diversifying economic ties, strengthening domestic defence readiness, and developing regional formats without the U.S., from the QUAD to "mini‑lateral" triangles in Asia.

Equally interesting are the differences. Indian press shows readiness to treat American influence instrumentally: if Washington helps accelerate growth, check Beijing and support technological development, its foreign policy "excesses" in the Middle East are seen more as an external shock to be adapted to. The Australian debate, by contrast, is increasingly normative: there is a dispute about how justified it is to be allied with a state that, in the view of part of society, is undermining the postwar order. South Korea, squeezed between China and North Korea, tends to more measured formulations, but between the lines experts show a desire to reduce absolute dependence on U.S. guarantees without severing alliance ties.

Viewed from Washington, all this may look like "natural fluctuations" in the moods of allies and partners. But in the local optics of Australia, India and South Korea these fluctuations add up to a new long‑term trend: the U.S. remains indispensable in military and technological power, but its political will and economic predictability are no longer taken for granted. So today's debates in Canberra, New Delhi and Seoul are no longer a simple choice for or against America, but a search for a formula that would allow cooperation with Washington without becoming its hostage. It is in these searches that the nuances of perception are born—nuances that are barely visible from inside the United States but that will determine how sustainable American influence is in the years ahead.

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Washington under Fire: How Turkey, India and Brazil View the New US War

In recent weeks, in the foreign-policy pages of Turkey, India and Brazil, the United States almost always appears in the same context: war and oil. Joint US and Israeli strikes on Iran, a sharp increase in American military presence in the Middle East, and the parallel use of energy policy and sanctions as instruments of pressure have turned Washington into the main object of debate. From Turkish regional newspapers to Indian leftist portals and Brazilian political columns, discussions of America again evoke the debates from the era of the invasion of Iraq, but against a new economic and political backdrop.

The central axis of all three discussions is the war that began at the end of February 2026 against Iran, in which the US participated not as a "hidden conductor" but as an open actor in strikes and the subsequent buildup of troops in the region. In Brazilian and Turkish pieces this war is immediately described as "American‑Israeli" and linked to a broader White House course of strengthening military presence in the Middle East—the largest since the 2003 invasion of Iraq.(pt.wikipedia.org) In India these events are read primarily through the prism of vulnerability in the country’s own energy security and Delhi’s political compromises vis‑à‑vis Washington and Tel Aviv.(peoplesdispatch.org)

The first common motif is the US war against Iran as a test of sovereignty and strategic independence. Turkish coverage—from analyses on conservative and Islamist platforms to leftist union publications—emphasizes the geographic proximity of the front to the Turkish border and thus heightens the emotional tone: drone and missile attacks, discussion of the vulnerability of border regions, fear of Turkey being drawn into the conflict. Against this backdrop there are calls to "close American and NATO bases" and to end any US and Israeli military infrastructure on Turkish territory: in Gaziantep regional press, union activist Doğan Eroulları explicitly states that "the government must immediately cease all US and Israeli military activities in Turkey; NATO and US bases must be closed immediately."(gaziantepsabah.com)

In India the war against Iran is perceived not as a direct military threat but as a political exposure of Narendra Modi’s course. The leftist portal Peoples Dispatch, in an article with a pointedly harsh headline about the "emptiness" of Indian foreign policy, argues that the American war has revealed Delhi’s dependence on the US and the Israeli lobby. The author links India’s positions on Iran and Palestine to the interests of "large corporate houses" that Modi "has served throughout his political career," rather than to any considered strategy.(peoplesdispatch.org) On Indian social media and discussion platforms this criticism intensifies into accusations of the prime minister being "compromised" before Washington, up to conspiratorial motifs about the influence of Trump’s circle and Israeli interests on Indian diplomacy.(reddit.com)

The Brazilian perspective draws on its own painful experience of dependence on American military and sanctions agendas. Center‑left and left commentators in São Paulo and Belo Horizonte, discussing the war against Iran, draw direct historical parallels with the occupation of Iraq and call the US "still belligerent and aggressive," now adding the "climate denialism" of the Trump era to that description.(brasildefato.com.br) In a recent column in a leading Minas Gerais outlet, commentator Luís Carlos Azedo notes that a war with US and Israeli bombings carries not only the risk of escalation but also a threat to "Iran’s cultural heritage"—from the Golestan Palace to other symbols—and that this global crisis complicates Lula’s reelection by increasing inflation and putting pressure on the transport sector.(em.com.br)

The second recurring storyline is US pressure on energy markets and attempts to use oil as leverage in relations with India and Brazil. In the Indian debate a key theme has become the American agreement to a temporary "breathing space" for Russian tanker deliveries while simultaneously pushing Delhi toward more expensive American oil. Leftist analysis claims that US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent "generously" offered India a month to buy already‑en route Russian shipments and then transition to pricier US oil—a vivid example of how Washington turns sanctions into a commercial and political instrument.(peoplesdispatch.org) One Indian Reddit discussion characterizes this as US "strategic realism": formally Washington allows India to soften the blow of sanctions, but in practice pushes it into dependence on American supplies and reduces room to maneuver between Moscow and Washington.(reddit.com)

At the same time, business and expert pieces in English aimed at an Indian audience discuss a new US‑India trade package in which US tariff reductions are linked to India’s commitment to redirect some crude purchases to American and Venezuelan barrels.(finance-monthly.com) Indian commentators are divided here: some see an opportunity to reduce critical dependence on Russia and strengthen the strategic partnership with Washington in the face of China; others see another example of how the US is rewiring global energy flows to suit its own interests, with little regard for the social cost to developing economies.

In Brazil the oil and trade issue appears mainly in numbers: exports to the United States in the first two months of 2026 fell by 23.2% compared with the previous year, according to Amcham Brasil monitoring.(sindicarne.com.br) For Brazilian industry and business outlets this is grounds to talk about the fragility of bilateral ties and the extent to which the American agenda—from sanctions to tariff decisions—makes the Global South a hostage to other countries’ strategic games. In columns targeted at a domestic audience this is presented much more harshly: the US is described as a partner that readily uses tools like the Magnitsky Act or visa sanctions to interfere in Brazil’s internal affairs; the 2025 episode when Washington applied targeted measures against Brazilian officials and even put the national payment system PIX into doubt is cited as an example of how trade‑economic figures and human‑rights rhetoric in American discourse are easily welded into one package of pressure.(pt.wikipedia.org)

The third common motif is fatigue and distrust toward US "belligerence," while within the United States a new global framework is being discussed—such as the "Shield of the Americas" initiative—and the appointment of a special envoy for that direction.(pt.wikipedia.org) In Brazil and Turkey such moves are perceived as a signal of militarization of the Western Hemisphere and increased American control over logistics and security, not as a neutral "collective defense." For parts of the Turkish and Brazilian left, any strengthening of US military architecture is automatically read through experiences of coups, interventions and "exports of democracy." Brazilian politician and former justice minister Tarso Genro explains this in an interview with a left outlet: the United States "will remain a warring and aggressive country," and Trump’s arrival with his climate denial turns the US into a factor of climate destabilization—particularly dangerous for Latin America with its inequality and vulnerability to climate shocks.(brasildefato.com.br)

In India the skepticism is expressed in more pragmatic terms: analytical and user discussions emphasize that the US does not want India to become a "second China" and will shape policy to limit its potential as an independent center of power, despite all the rhetoric about a "strategic partnership."(reddit.com) At the same time, that same audience acknowledges that without US technology and capital India will find it difficult to catch up with China. That produces a particular Indian cynicism: strategic rapprochement with the US is seen as inevitable, but not as a partnership of equals.

The fourth crosscutting motif is how Washington’s wars and sanctions are woven into the domestic politics of Turkey, India and Brazil. In Turkey anti‑American rhetoric becomes part of criticism of the ruling party: the demand to "close US and NATO bases" sounds not only as a foreign‑policy slogan but also as a social one—these texts also discuss rising poverty, the high cost of living, and the sense that the "regime’s" foreign policy plays into the interests of the US and Israel rather than protecting Turkish society from the risks stemming from the conflict with Iran.(gaziantepsabah.com)

In India the opposition Congress has already announced it will raise in Parliament the issue of the US‑Israel attack on Iran and "deviations" in Indian foreign policy, making issues of war and oil a weapon against Modi amid upcoming budget debates.(deccanherald.com) Left media like Peoples Dispatch build a narrative that alignment with Washington and Jerusalem runs counter to India’s historical course of non‑alignment and solidarity with the Global South. Online, users emotionally sketch hypothetical mirrored scenarios, comparing Modi’s silence on Iranian victims with how India would react if the US supported Pakistan in a similar attack on an Indian school.(reddit.com)

In Brazil the war and Washington’s sanctions are tied into the fight for Lula’s reelection in 2026. Political commentators warn that the war in the Middle East, rising oil prices and global turbulence could turn American foreign policy into a hidden actor in the Brazilian campaign: any new US escalation that boosts inflation and weakens Brazil’s exports to the American market will hit Lula’s ratings.(em.com.br) Memories of the recent 2025 diplomatic crisis—when Washington applied targeted sanctions against Brazilian judges and officials—continue to feed suspicion toward the US as a partner willing to use "anti‑corruption" and "human‑rights" rhetoric as tools of pressure at sensitive electoral moments.(pt.wikipedia.org)

Local images and comparisons that would hardly arise in the United States itself are particularly valuable. In Turkish discourse about the border with Iran there is a motif of the "ancientness" and resilience of the region, which also appears in Indian debates: one Indian commentator sarcastically noted that responses to US and Israeli threats should be like those in Ankara, where it is reminded that the Turkish border with Iran is older than the American state itself.(reddit.com) In Brazil the war against Iran is brought into the realm of cultural memory: it’s not only about oil and geopolitics but also about palaces and mosques that could be destroyed by bombings, and Brazilian commentators draw parallels with their own fears for the Amazon and historical city centers under pressure from global capital.(em.com.br)

The common conclusion from these three perspectives is this: America remains an indispensable center of power, but is increasingly less seen as a desirable leader. Turkish, Indian and Brazilian debates converge on three points. First, the US is viewed as an actor ready to use large‑scale force and sanctions to pursue its interests, even if that undermines the stability of entire regions. Second, Washington is increasingly associated with the instrumentalization of energy: oil, gas, tariffs and sanction "windows" become part of its political toolkit and a source of vulnerability for partners. Third, American decisions are ever more deeply woven into other countries’ domestic debates, affecting elections, protests and social conflicts.

This picture is far from black‑and‑white. In India the strategic necessity of cooperation with the US in the face of China continues to be acknowledged; in Brazil some elites see Washington as a counterweight to China and a modernization tool; in Turkey the military and part of the bureaucracy view NATO and American bases as insurance against regional turbulence. But in public and intellectual discourse—judging by March publications and debates in Turkey, India and Brazil—by 2026 the US is above all a country that is again fighting in the Middle East, pressing with sanctions and oil, and whose decisions are too often made without regard for how they will be received in societies neighboring the battlefield. It is at this point that a new Global South skepticism toward Washington is born—skepticism that can no longer be fully understood by reading only the American press.

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"World Echo of Washington": how Saudi Arabia, South Africa and Israel argue about the US role in the...

In early March 2026 attitudes toward the United States are determined less by America's domestic agenda than by the roar of bomber engines over Iran and spikes in oil and gasoline prices. The joint US‑Israeli strikes on Iran that began on February 28 and Tehran's retaliatory attacks on oil infrastructure and shipping in the Persian Gulf have become the main focus of discussion in Arab, South African and Israeli media alike. Around this war different—and sometimes mutually exclusive—ideas are forming about what American power means today, how capable Washington is of managing the consequences of its own decisions, and who will ultimately pay for this campaign—in money, security and political stability. (en.wikipedia.org)

In the Arab debate, primarily in Saudi Arabia, the US appears simultaneously as a security guarantor and as a source of strategic risk. The newspaper al‑Watan describes how the "expanding war between the US and Iran" entered its second week and how, against the background of mounting Iranian missile‑drone strikes on the Gulf states, "the end of the war remains murky." The outlet emphasizes that the buildup of American strikes inside Iran—including discussions in Washington of a "limited" deployment of ground forces—occurs in parallel with retaliatory strikes on Saudi and Emirati infrastructure, meaning the war is coming to the territory of allies who did not make a formal decision to enter the conflict. (alwatan.com.sa)

Against this backdrop Saudi press closely reads leaks from the American bureaucracy. Al‑Watan cites a classified assessment by the US National Intelligence Council that even a large‑scale, prolonged military campaign is unlikely to bring about regime change in Iran "even if the current leadership were destroyed." For a Saudi reader this sounds like an admission that the United States started a war without a realistic political endgame, and therefore without fully calculating the long‑term risks for the region. (alwatan.com.sa)

Moreover, Arab analysts in the Gulf region increasingly speak about the price their countries pay for being the launch zones for American aircraft. The Yemeni portal al‑Mashhad describes the US strikes on Iran as a "strategic shock" for the Gulf Cooperation Council states: American bases, long seen as protection against external threats, become the reason why Iranian missiles and drones turn "their lands and vital assets into legitimate targets." With a measured distance the author raises the question of the future of the American‑Gulf partnership: if Washington drags its allies into a war they were not asked about in advance, are they entitled in the future to demand political and financial compensation for destroyed infrastructure and increased vulnerability? (almashhad.news)

Saudi writers, noting rising oil and gasoline prices in the US itself, wryly remind readers that when the war in Iran closes the Strait of Hormuz and strikes targets in Saudi Arabia, it is the American consumer who faces nearly a fifty‑cent jump per gallon in just one and a half weeks. An Al‑Jazeera piece notes that the average price of gasoline in the US rose from $2.98 to $3.48 per gallon after the strikes on Iran began, and a substantial portion of that increase is directly linked to halted production and export logistics in Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Iraq. Saudi commentators thus stress the paradox: Washington is waging a war that hits both the incomes of its Gulf partners and the wallets of its own middle class. (aljazeera.net)

The South African conversation about the US today is much less burdened by questions of military strategy and much more focused on the social reality of a "distant war that hits the household budget." In a piece in The Mercury titled roughly "A far‑away war felt at home," experts explain to readers that March's jump in fuel prices in South Africa is a direct consequence of "upward pressure on the global price of oil" due to risks to supply and logistics after the start of "hostilities between Iran on the one hand and the US and Israel on the other." (themercury.co.za)

UASA union representative Abigail Moyo in this piece says literally that "daily commuters, households and small businesses dependent on transport are the first to feel the squeeze." The South African Freight Association warns that rising fuel prices will push up the cost of all goods produced or transported across the country. Against this background, in South African optics the US is not so much a guarantor of world security as a distant country whose military decisions disrupt the plans of the local central bank: Business Report quotes analysts who believe the South African Reserve Bank was "almost forced" to abandon an expected rate cut to protect the rand from the inflationary shock triggered by the US‑Israeli war with Iran. (dailynews.co.za)

At the same time, at the political level attitudes toward the American role in the war are much harsher. African media widely cite statements from the African Union and regional blocs condemning the US and Israeli strikes on Iran and warning of threats to global energy security and the continent's economy. NewsGhana lists African leaders and movements characterizing the attacks as an "illegal act of war" and demanding de‑escalation from Washington. South African EFF politician Carl Niehaus urges the government to "stop being ambiguous" and take a tougher stance toward the US, stressing that in the Global South such wars undermine trust in America's discourse about the "international rule of law." (newsghana.com.gh)

Against this backdrop another more local scandal looks symbolic—surrounding the US ambassador to South Africa. News24 reports how the ambassador had to publicly walk back a statement that he "didn't care" about a South African court ruling that found the controversial protest slogan "Kill the Boer" not to be hate speech. After a strong reaction from South African society the diplomat now calls the court a "respected institution" and emphasizes that the US "respects South Africa's judicial system." In the context of the war in Iran this story reads as yet another sign of how easily American representatives outside the West provoke accusations of disrespect for local institutions and then rush to restore an image as defenders of law and democratic procedures. (news24.com)

The Israeli debate, naturally, is structured differently: here the US is not an external destroyer of stability but the main strategic partner in a war that much of the Israeli establishment has for years regarded as inevitable. The Arab paper al‑Quds, covering the Israeli perspective, reminds readers that incumbent Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu for decades worked to "draw the US into a war against Iran under the pretext of its nuclear program," and in his circle the current operation is presented as the culmination of a long strategy. But even in Israel things are not unambiguous: the i24 channel, as one Middle East news service notes, records "concern" within the country about how exactly Netanyahu defines "victory" and where he will put the stopping point in the conflict. (alquds.com)

Israeli analysts are also closely watching sentiment within the US itself. Palestinian and Arab‑Israeli media almost gleefully cite recent US public‑opinion polls: an al‑Quds article cites a Quinnipiac University poll showing that 53% of Americans oppose continuing military operations against Tehran, while only about 40% support them. This is presented as a sign of a rift between the White House and American public opinion and as a factor that could complicate Republicans' prospects in the upcoming midterm elections. Israeli readers are thus told: Washington may not possess the political legitimacy reserve that the Israeli leadership expects while pushing for a large‑scale campaign against Iran. (alquds.com)

At the level of military analysis in Israel and around it, the US is seen as a force capable of degrading Iran's military potential but incapable of radically changing the political reality. Reports that American strikes destroyed "16 Iranian mine‑layer units" are layered with expert assessments that Iran, despite losses, is choosing a strategy of protracted confrontation, betting on the "weapon" of high oil prices and the threat of a global recession. Western analysis describing the war as a contest over "who can endure the pain longer" is actively cited in Israeli and Middle Eastern press: the US and its allies must endure a trail of expensive fuel, market instability and potential base attacks, while Iran must endure near‑constant air raids, infrastructure destruction and domestic discontent. (apnews.com)

Interestingly, it is the economic dimension of the war—where the US appears vulnerable—that becomes a point of unexpected consensus among the three countries examined. Saudi economic reviews of gold and oil list the drivers: volatility in oil prices, which have jumped above $110 per barrel, is closely linked to Washington's actions, and further inflation in the US, analysts say, could push the Federal Reserve into difficult new decisions—which in turn will reverberate across all global markets, including South African and Gulf markets. South African columns warn of an "immediate threat" to local inflation‑fighting efforts, while Saudi and Emirati commentators look ahead and ask: will a time come when Washington must compensate partners not only for destroyed infrastructure but also for the macroeconomic shocks caused by its strategic bets? (nordfxmalaysian.com)

Finally, another common theme is doubt that the US has a clear exit strategy. Arab analysis cites pieces such as a dissection in Delta‑Press that notes contradictory statements by President Donald Trump: one moment he speaks of seeking Iran's "unconditional capitulation" and "regime change," the next that "the objectives have already been achieved" and the war has accomplished its main goal of destroying the Iranian army. Such rhetorical "testing by fire" draws comparisons in the Middle East with Iraq and Afghanistan and feeds skepticism: if Washington itself does not know what it wants, the risk of a protracted, costly and politically toxic war increases. In South Africa and other African countries that scenario—a "yet another prolonged US war in the Middle East"—most often appears as a nightmare for the global economy. (delta-press.com)

Taken together the picture is this: in Saudi Arabia the US is still seen as a key security guarantor but also as a source of strategic unpredictability that drags the Gulf into a direct confrontation with Iran without sufficient calculation; in South Africa Washington is perceived primarily through the prism of the economic consequences of its military decisions and through an old colonial suspicion of Western coercive policy; in Israel American power is a resource for a long‑desired war but also a cause for anxiety about whether the ally can withstand internal pressure and how long it will be willing to share responsibility with Israel for the consequences. It is at the intersection of these perspectives that today's international perception of the US is formed: a power whose decisions on war and peace instantly resonate from Riyadh to Johannesburg, from Tel Aviv to Tehran, but are increasingly less often seen as decisions made by a player that clearly understands where it is leading not only the world, but itself.

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How the Global South and East See America in the Shadow of the Iran War

In early March 2026 the image of the United States outside the Western information bubble is once again being pieced together from fragments: air strikes on Iran alongside Israel, a surge in oil prices, jittery stock markets, anxious cabinet meetings in capitals around the world. But viewed not from Washington or Brussels, but from Beijing, Pretoria or Seoul, America appears not only as a military superpower but also as a source of risk, economic pressure and at the same time an indispensable element of the global security architecture. Reactions in China, South Africa and South Korea to the current Iran war and Washington’s broader course form a polyphonic chorus featuring condemnation, pragmatic calculation and nervous dependence.

In Chinese media space fresh commentary on American policy almost always follows two lines: criticism of an unbalanced alliance system and condemnation of the use of force in the Persian Gulf region. In a recent column in People’s Daily, the US is described less as Europe’s ally than as a “metropolis” building deliberately unequal relations with Brussels: the author emphasizes that “the new American administration only helped Europeans see more clearly an old fact: the US is not an ally but a ‘sovereign’”; the piece cites Pew data on the sharp drop in favorable views of the US in Europe in recent years. (world-app.people.cn) In another Chinese analysis devoted to the Gaza war, the conclusion is that no American president, including Trump, “ever truly sought to end the war,” and that Washington used the peace process as an instrument of pressure and control over regional actors. (news.cri.cn) That logic is now automatically applied to the clash with Iran: for Beijing this is not an isolated episode but another manifestation of a profound US inclination to maintain by force a status quo that benefits itself and Israel, even at the cost of undermining international law and the UN’s authority.

Notably, Chinese writers almost always link American military activity to economic and technological agendas. One of the year-end forecasts for the 2026 world economy emphasizes that trade wars and geopolitical conflicts, including Washington’s actions in the Middle East, remain key sources of uncertainty, adding risk to an already tense global economic picture. (paper.people.com.cn) In an official Chinese MFA document on the state of trade relations with the US, Beijing specifically reminds readers that China’s share in the US trade deficit is declining, and that America’s imbalance problems are increasingly shifting onto other partners; thus the document criticizes Washington’s attempts to portray China as the main “culprit” of its structural economic problems. (world-app.people.cn) Against this background, strikes on Iran and oil price spikes fit the Chinese narrative of “irresponsible hegemony” that shifts costs onto the rest of the world.

The South Korean discussion of the current Iran war is much more anxious and down-to-earth: it reflects a country physically dependent on Middle Eastern oil and at the same time under the military “umbrella” provided by Washington. In a Korean editorial published recently it is stated bluntly: “As the ‘Iran war’ drags on, what worries us most is the price of oil.” The author recalls that Iran threatens to block the Strait of Hormuz, through which about 20% of the world’s seaborne oil passes, and notes that the barrel has already risen by more than $10 while Korea’s KOSPI index crashed 12% in one day — a drop larger than after the September 11, 2001 attacks. (koreadaily.com) Another analytical piece stresses that the “black Wednesday” on the Korean market was the result of three factors, naming the US–Israel war with Iran and the fear of a prolonged Hormuz blockade as the foremost. (realscasenote.com)

Korean commentators, unlike many in the West, do not so much dispute the legitimacy of the strikes themselves as ask whether Washington’s calculation is rational. One economic review points out that after the first days of the campaign Trump announced increased defense spending and the possibility of a protracted conflict, but “public opinion in the US is dominated by anxiety about a long war; Democrats criticize Trump’s approach.” (contents.premium.naver.com) In another piece analyzing oil and dollar dynamics, analysts explicitly predict that given the “breakdown of consensus” within the Republican MAGA camp the likelihood of a long campaign is not that high, precisely because of domestic pressure on the White House. (file.alphasquare.co.kr) This is an important nuance: in the Seoul perspective the US is simultaneously a threat to global stability and a country where antiwar opinion can restrain its leaders — hence a factor to be taken into account but not demonized.

South African discussion of the Iran war and the American role in the world is woven into a broader post‑colonial context. In a notable News24 piece Trump’s wars with Iran are called financially unsustainable: researchers estimate the first 100 hours of the campaign cost Washington about $3.7 billion, roughly $900 million a day, and these are “significant off‑budget expenditures” that deepen cracks within the electoral core of the “America First” slogan. (news24.com) It is emphasized that Trump’s supporters — middle‑class and working‑class taxpayers — are beginning to ask why money is being spent on a distant conflict instead of solving domestic problems. In the South African frame this easily fits the long‑standing image of the US as a power that steadily exports war and instability to the global South while expecting political loyalty and economic compliance.

It is also telling how commentators from South Africa read statements by other Western leaders. In another News24 article the publication relays Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney’s remarks that the war with Iran is a “failure of the international order” and proof of the UN and IAEA’s inability to prevent escalation despite decades of resolutions and sanctions. (news24.com) For a South African reader this sounds familiar: yet another war in which the US plays a key role exposes the asymmetry of global institutions historically built to serve northern interests. The fact that the war has already spread to Gulf states and struck American embassies looks, against this backdrop, not like a private tragedy but a systemic failure.

One observation is common to China, South Korea and South Africa: few perceive the current strike on Iran as an “exceptional case.” Chinese experts, analyzing the chain from Gaza to the current raids on Iranian territory, speak of a “structural confrontation” between Washington and Tehran and of a “religious‑ethnic” turning of conflicts, where Israeli‑Iranian and American‑Iranian contradictions have merged into a single knot of regional war. (finance.sina.com.cn) South Korean analysts in business media recall that as early as 2025 an Israeli air operation against Iran and Tehran’s subsequent strikes had already shaken markets, and that the current US‑Israel joint war has become effectively the “highest form of external escalation” of that conflict. (asaninst.org) South African authors, for their part, place Iran among a series of conflicts in which, in their view, Washington continues the logic of Iraq and Afghanistan: costly campaigns with dubious strategic returns and heavy consequences for countries in the global South.

Still, each of the three countries projects its own specific fears and expectations onto the image of the US. In Korea, through discussion of the “Iran war” a chronic anxiety about its own security comes through: in an Ajunews column the author notes that in the fire of the Middle East conflict “our citizens in Iran and Israel have to escape via Turkmenistan and Egypt,” and draws the conclusion that the state is obliged to ensure evacuations to the end, because “foreign policy formulas do not stop bullets and rockets.” (ajunews.com) Behind this lies not only humanitarian concern but the question of how far American strategy will go and how safe it is for Seoul to keep betting on an ally whose operations repeatedly set afire energy supplies from a region on which Korea critically depends.

China, by contrast, uses the US as a convenient contrasting background. In a report on an international Middle East conference China’s former special envoy to the region, Wu Siqiao, explains that resolving the Palestinian issue is possible only through implementation of the “two‑state” principle and places special hope in a “responsible role” for China and regional states like Saudi Arabia, unlike the American line, which he describes as inclined to make maximal use of economic and political influence for short‑term gains. (finance.sina.com.cn) In this optic Washington is useful to Beijing more as an “anti‑example” — a state that verbally defends the international order while in practice undermining it with unilateral sanctions and military strikes, thereby advertising the Chinese model of “non‑interference.”

For South Africa, the conversation about the US almost inevitably fits into themes of debt, inequality and double standards. South African press pieces on the cost of the war with Iran stress that up to $900 million a day spent by the Pentagon is not only a problem for the American budget but a symptom of a world where funds desperately needed to fight poverty and the climate crisis are diverted to rockets and ammunition. (news24.com) For a country engaged in heated debates about fair reform of global financial institutions, the US campaign in Iran becomes another argument in favor of rethinking the role of the dollar and of Washington in the world system.

Against this backdrop it is telling that even in texts where authors are not inclined to anti‑Americanism per se the motif of “war fatigue with the US” increasingly appears. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, whose words are widely quoted in the South African press, speaks directly of a “failure of the international order”; Korean economists note that each new Middle Eastern escalation instantly turns into a “black Wednesday” for the KOSPI and a surge in gasoline prices; Chinese strategists see the Iran campaign as both a tool of pressure on Beijing and a signal to European allies about who still writes the rules of the game. (news24.com)

All this creates a paradoxical image: the United States remains for China, South Africa and South Korea the central actor on the world stage, without which neither a settlement in the Middle East, nor the functioning of world markets, nor reform of international institutions is possible. But at the same time America is increasingly perceived not as the “leader of the free world” but as a source of cyclical shocks — military, financial, political. And while in the West debates rage over how exactly Washington should “lead,” in Beijing, Pretoria and Seoul a different question is being voiced more insistently: will the world ever be able to protect itself from the costs of that leadership — or is it doomed every few years to pay again for another American decision for war?

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How the World Sees America Today: Iran, Ukraine and Latin America

While Washington discusses the latest polls and domestic political intrigues, the picture outside the United States looks quite different. For Brazil, Ukraine and South Korea, “America” today is not an abstract symbol of democracy but a very concrete set of Donald Trump’s decisions: a war against Iran, attempts to rewrite the security architecture, the share of U.S. responsibility for the outcome of the war in Ukraine, and pressure on Latin America. The general backdrop in these countries is similar: no one disputes that you cannot play the global game without the U.S., but everyone is increasingly asking whether American power has become a source of instability that they themselves suffer from.

The first and most obvious focus is the new U.S. and Israeli war against Iran. Ukrainian outlets such as Ukrainska Pravda track the escalation day by day: from Trump’s phone call with Netanyahu and the decision to start an operation against Iran on February 28, to reports of a “very powerful strike” on March 7 and threats to intensify bombings in response to Tehran’s attempts to close the Strait of Hormuz.(pravda.com.ua) It is important that Ukrainian authors read this not as a separate Middle Eastern campaign but through the prism of their own war. Analyses carry a persistent thought: the deeper the U.S. gets into the Iranian conflict, the fewer chances Kyiv has to regain American attention and weapons. Ukrainian military personnel and experts speak directly about the risk of shortages of Patriot missiles against the backdrop of massive Russian strikes on cities — this is no longer a theoretical scenario but a discussed threat.(reddit.com) In the Ukrainian media space, Trump is presented as a leader willing to make a huge “geopolitical trade”: peace with Russia at the expense of Ukraine — in return for multitrillion-dollar deals and a breather for the American economy. One review sums up the position: Washington is offering a “peace by summer” in exchange for economic packages with Moscow worth tens of trillions of dollars, and the cessation of military aid to Kyiv has already become a fact.(fakty.com.ua) The tone is bitter and pragmatic: an ally once regarded as existential is now being seen as a bargaining chip in a deal with the Kremlin and Tehran.

It is precisely in this pairing — Iran plus Russia — that Ukraine sees the new logic of American foreign policy. Inside the country a painful reassessment of the U.S. role is taking place: analysts and politicians who until recently spoke of Washington as the “No. 1 strategic partner” now favor the formulation “critically necessary but unreliable.” Reports from Ukrainian research centers emphasize that Ukraine has become a hostage to Washington’s “fatigue” with long conflicts and to Trump’s return to a transactional style: support can quickly be replaced by pressure in pursuit of a final “deal.”(razumkov.org.ua) This discussion goes beyond an anti-Russian or anti-American discourse — it is about how safe it is to build a country’s security on the will of a single, albeit most powerful, ally.

The second major layer of reactions concerns how the U.S. is redrawing the world’s energy and economic map. For South Korea, the Iran war is primarily a risk to oil, logistics and the dollar exchange rate. The Korean business press dissects in detail how U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iranian infrastructure and the blocking of the Strait of Hormuz drive up Brent prices and break supply chains on which Korean petrochemicals and shipping depend.(hankyung.com) Analytical reports feature a familiar formula: “geopolitical tension caused by the U.S.” simultaneously supports demand for “safe havens” like gold and the dollar and creates turbulence from which Korean exports both win and lose. The paradox is that Seoul is objectively interested in a strong American military posture — primarily against North Korea and China — yet it is precisely the economy that makes Korean analysts far more cautious in their assessments. For them, Washington is not only a security guarantor but also a source of shocks that brokers and corporations must build into their models.

In Latin America, the energy and financial dimensions of American policy intertwine with the question of sovereignty. The latest U.S. strikes on Venezuela, already interpreted in the region as an “intervention,” have sparked a wave of commentary about the return of the Monroe Doctrine in its hard form. Media across Latin America thoroughly examine remarks by Brazil’s former first lady Michelle Bolsonaro, who said that U.S. actions against Caracas are “the beginning of the end of an authoritarian and criminal regime” and a warning “to dictators masquerading as democrats and protectors of drug traffickers.”(en.wikipedia.org) For right-wing and conservative circles, regional U.S. pressure on the regimes in Venezuela and Cuba is a welcome signal: the U.S. is returning to the role of “policeman” of the Western Hemisphere. For the left and moderates, it is the threat of a repeat of twentieth-century scenarios, when regime changes under the banner of fighting communism and drugs brought civil wars and long-term instability.

Brazil occupies a particularly delicate position in this context. On the one hand, there is a long-running trade conflict smoldering between Trump and Lula: after the White House’s 2025 decision to impose 50 percent tariffs on a number of Brazilian goods, Brazilians still remember that Trump officially framed Lula’s government policies as threats to U.S. national security.(en.wikipedia.org) On the other hand, Lula cannot afford a break with Washington: both because of dependence on the American market and because of the broader struggle for influence in Latin America. Against this backdrop, the cancellation of the planned March meeting between Lula and Trump in Washington due to the U.S. and Israeli strike on Iran became symbolic for Brazilian commentators: American Middle East policy now directly interferes with South American agendas. An article in Correio Braziliense emphasizes that, despite the postponement of the visit, Brasília calculated the dialogue would focus on trade, tariffs and shared interests, but those plans are being swept away by the logic of war.(correiobraziliense.com.br)

Around Iran another common thread of reactions emerges — attitudes toward American “regime change.” In Ukraine, journalists and experts remind readers that Trump’s original slogans and the MAGA movement were built on a refusal of nation-building abroad, yet now the White House openly speaks of changing the leadership in Tehran as an objective.(pravda.com.ua) Ukrainian texts are full of alarm: if Washington treats changing the regime in Iran as pragmatically as it treats Ukraine’s future, then any guarantees of international law become paper-thin. In Brazil, analysts recall 2010 and the “Tehran Declaration” — Brazil and Turkey’s attempt to act as mediators in the Iranian nuclear dossier — and use it as a starting point for modern comparisons. Columns emphasize that the then-multilateral format was essentially ignored by the U.S., and today Washington and Israel act almost without regard for regional initiatives.(correiobraziliense.com.br) South Korean economic reviews, less emotional but no less critical, say the same: the strike on Iran is interpreted as a typical example of a unilateral U.S. decision that everyone else — from oil companies to Asian governments — must then adapt to.(hankyung.com)

Against this background, the topic of possible U.S. interference in Brazil’s own democracy is gaining relevance. Political commentator João Paulo Charlo in an interview on Bahia radio Metro 1 openly ponders the risks that Trump might try to “destabilize the elections in Brazil” in 2026 — through indirect pressure as well as media influence.(metro1.com.br) His argument rests on two elements: first, the memory of the 2025 Brazil–U.S. diplomatic crisis when Washington used tariffs as a tool of political pressure; and second, the ideological proximity of part of Brazil’s right, around Michelle Bolsonaro and PL Mulher, to Trump’s style and rhetoric. In this reading the U.S. is no longer just a powerful external actor but a factor in domestic political struggle: alliance or confrontation with Washington becomes a litmus test for local elites.

The Ukrainian discourse about Trump and the U.S. is now largely built around a non-military dimension — the question of how ready Washington is to “trade away” Ukrainian territory and sovereignty for big deals with Moscow and for clearing the front to combat China and Iran. Analytical pieces mention the so-called “Dmitriev package” — scenarios of massive economic agreements between the U.S. and Russia totaling roughly $12 trillion, which, according to Ukrainian intelligence, were discussed at the expert level.(fakty.com.ua) For the Ukrainian audience this sounds almost like a repetition of Yalta: great powers negotiating the fate of Eastern Europe while the front lines and ruined cities remain Ukraine’s problem.

Interestingly, in South Korea these same geopolitical lines are discussed much more technocratically. In the Korean expert community the dominant concern is not fear of “abandoning allies” but a pragmatic calculation: how will American concentration on Iran and negotiations with Russia affect Washington’s willingness to contain China and North Korea, and what economic “side effects” will Seoul bear. Reports from investment houses more often portray the U.S. as a generator of volatility than as a moral authority: Fed rate hikes, oil price spikes due to Hormuz, new sanction regimes.(hankyung.com) This perspective demonstrates the East Asian tendency to “depoliticize” America: what matters are not Trump’s statements but the yield curve and freight rates.

Put together, a paradoxical picture emerges. In Latin America many still view the U.S. as a force capable of “punishing dictators” — in Venezuela, in Cuba, and possibly even in Brazil in the eyes of some right-wingers. In Ukraine, by contrast, the U.S. is increasingly seen as a cynical player willing to make deals behind allies’ backs, even as it remains the only power capable of deterring Russia. In South Korea America is both an indispensable military shield and a source of economic turbulence. In all three cases “Trump’s America” is not an ideological marker but a set of extremely material consequences: tariffs, missiles, oil tankers, falls and rises in stock indices.

What is barely visible in the American public debate becomes obvious when viewed from Brasília, Kyiv or Seoul: the world is less and less inclined to see the U.S. as a stable “pillar.” Some — like Michelle Bolsonaro — welcome Washington’s return to blunt power as a way to “restore order.”(en.wikipedia.org) Others — like Ukrainian journalists and experts — see in the same actions a threat to the principle that an ally should not become an arbiter trading away other countries’ territories.(nbuviap.gov.ua) And on the floors of Seoul’s stock exchanges they simply calculate how much another “very powerful” American operation on the other side of the planet will cost the world and how to pass that cost on to share prices and oil futures.

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How the US Looks From Afar: South Africa, Korea and Ukraine

At the turn of March 2026, the image of the United States in the world is again being formed not from abstract musings about “hegemony,” but around very concrete events. The outbreak of an American‑Israeli war against Iran, strikes on US embassies and retaliatory bombings, the debate over the cost of this campaign for Washington, the upcoming US presidential election and the fate of aid to Ukraine — all of this is being projected across the media space from Pretoria to Seoul and Kyiv. South African analysts discuss US strategy in the Middle East and its price for the American economy; Korean experts filter events through the familiar triangle “US — China — technology”; and Ukrainian columnists and politicians view America first and foremost as a guarantor or, conversely, as a potentially unreliable security patron.

The largest English‑language portal in South Africa, News24, has in recent days effectively turned into a feed about the US and Israeli war against Iran. In an analytical piece on American bombings of Tehran, the author emphasizes: “The United States once again confuses its unrivaled ability to destroy from the air with the ability to dictate political outcomes” — and states that Washington has no clear “political endgame” in Iran, only a theory of destruction. This thesis is presented as a pattern of US behavior already familiar to Global South countries, from Afghanistan to Libya, and it reads to the South African audience almost as a warning against faith in American “surgical strikes” as a path to stability. In another article from the same outlet, it is calculated that the war with Iran costs the US about $900 million per day, and the total bill for the first 100 hours exceeded $3.7 billion. As noted in the analysis for News24, this hits not only the American budget but also the foundation of the slogan “America First”: Donald Trump’s conservative base is split between the desire to demonstrate strength and the fear of becoming mired in new endless wars.

South African commentators here demonstrate something rarely seen in American discussion: they look at the US as a state whose actions in the Middle East automatically reverberate in Africa through oil prices, risks to trade routes and resources that could otherwise go to development support. As the News24 analyst observes in his breakdown of American strikes on Iran, “the US has no exit strategy again, only a bombing strategy,” and this is, in essence, a diagnosis of the entire architecture of American foreign policy, which, according to African critics, remains oriented toward forceful responses rather than long‑term political settlement. Another piece on the same portal emphasizes that the war has also exposed an imbalance in allied relations: Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney told News24 directly that the US did not consult key partners before striking Iran, calling the events “a failure of the international order.” In this way, South African outlets embed the conflict in a broader discussion: not only about whether the US is “right” in a particular episode, but about how much the American style of unilateral action undermines trust in the global rules that also sustain their own foreign trade.

On the other hand, the same South African press closely follows internal American politics as a factor of global predictability. News of a change in the US Secretary of Homeland Security — that Trump nominated Senator Markwayne Mullin to replace Kristi Noem — is presented not as a personnel sensation but as an indicator of the evolution of Washington’s migration and counterterrorism agenda. The News24 article emphasizes that the former DHS head had been criticized for hasty statements about “domestic terrorism,” and that despite changes in personnel, real immigration policy remains concentrated in the hands of operator Stephen Miller. This perspective is typical for countries sensitive to US decisions on visas, sanctions and capital controls: South Africa reads American domestic politics through the prism of how it may affect the movement of people and money between continents.

In South Korea the agenda around the US is much less emotional and focused on economics and technology. Here, the United States is first and foremost a market, a technological competitor and a regulator setting the framework for Korean exports from chips to electric vehicles. In analytical reports published by the Korean business media group Hankyung, the topic of “the US” almost always appears as a column in a table: growth of the American market, quarterly sales dynamics in the US, CAGR forecasts compared with China and India. One recent briefing on the global auto industry emphasizes that the US and India are currently showing an expected growth rate of roughly 15% through 2030, while China is estimated at only 6%. This shift, analysts say, forces Korean companies to reorient exports and investments: the US is seen as a key premium market for Korean EVs and batteries, while in China Koreans are moving away from a volume race toward a niche strategy. At the same time, the problem is noted: the “American” EV market, according to the analytical report, has recently shown weakness, especially for Korean manufacturers, and competition is heating up not only from local brands but also from Chinese firms entering other regions and taking share from Korea’s “big three” in the European market.

At the same time, Korean academic and expert circles discuss the strategic rivalry between the US and China as the defining framework for their own technology policy. In an analytical document prepared with participation from Sungkyunkwan University, it is emphasized that in strategic sectors — AI, semiconductors, quantum technologies — “the competition is intensifying, and especially the US and China are waging an all‑out war for technological supremacy and talent.” The authors note that Korea’s combined index of key technologies still lags and call for building its own balance between an alliance with the US and the need to operate in the Chinese market. The subtext is clear: Korean companies depend on American access to technologies and markets, but they cannot ignore China; any new round of American export restrictions on chips, quantum systems or AI — which the report calls likely — would place Seoul in an even more difficult position.

It is interesting that in Korean business media the US rarely appears as a “military power” or a source of value conflicts — far more often as another, albeit extremely important, parameter in the equation of margins, tariffs and supply chains. One Korean market review notes how an “American warming” — preferential regimes and demand from the US — supports Korean industries such as shipbuilding and electrical power, and this is placed alongside Chinese stimulus and the European “green deal.” Thus emerges a specifically Asian view: America is not a “world police,” but a part of the ecosystem of global capitalism, where any political move in Washington is transmitted into percentage points of profitability for Korean corporations.

The US looks completely different from Kyiv. For the Ukrainian media space, America is above all the country whose decisions determine the duration and outcome of the war. In a recent piece cited by Lenta.ru, Ukrainian politicians argue with the popular thesis that the outcome of the American elections will automatically determine the volume of aid to Ukraine. One member of the Verkhovna Rada, Dmytro Razumkov, the former parliament speaker, previously voiced concern that amid falling Republican ratings Trump might lose interest in the Ukrainian conflict, which would have dire consequences for Kyiv. However, other Ukrainian interlocutors insist that aid has become part of deeper institutional obligations of the US and is not reduced to the will of a single president. Their position reflects an internal fear of the “Afghanistan syndrome,” but also an understanding that Ukrainian survival cannot be built on expecting endlessly generous packages from Washington.

At the same time, Ukrainian and pro‑Ukrainian East European analysis tries to fit the US war against Iran into its own security picture. In a piece retold by the Belarusian opposition portal “Charter ’97,” experts from the American Institute for the Study of War (ISW) emphasize that Ukraine has unique experience fighting Iranian Shahed drones and other Iranian‑origin weapons, and that this experience is already in demand by the US in the Middle Eastern campaign. The publication notes that Washington has requested Kyiv’s help in protecting bases and personnel in the Middle East, and that the President of Ukraine has given the relevant order to the military. ISW analysts draw an important conclusion: continuous investments in the Ukrainian defense industry and its institutional knowledge are important not only for Ukraine itself but also for the US and its allies, effectively turning the country into an exporter of security, not only a consumer. For the Ukrainian audience this is a signal: to remain on the US agenda, Ukraine must be useful not only as a victim of aggression but also as a partner strengthening American defense and influencing the balance of power against Iran and other US adversaries.

At the same time, more sober, sometimes painful assessments of American policy also appear in Ukrainian and near‑Ukrainian discourse. In comments quoted by several Russian and European outlets, Ukrainian military experts and officials admit that the Middle East objectively distracts American attention and resources from the war in Europe. The new round of conflict with Iran raises fears that deliveries of ammunition and air‑defense systems to Ukraine will be delayed. In response, Ukrainian politicians try to publicly demonstrate understanding of American constraints and bet on long‑term agreements and co‑production of arms, including joint production of missiles and drones with American companies. A new model of relations can be discerned here: not “aid until victory,” but a reconfiguration of the “Ukraine — US” link into an industrial‑military alliance.

If these three regional optics are compared, several common themes emerge. First, the US and Israeli war against Iran is perceived everywhere as a test of Washington’s ability to think strategically rather than only tactically. South African analysts criticize the lack of a “political endgame” and warn that billions spent on bombings undermine an already fragile American budget, which reverberates in exchange rates and investments in emerging markets. Ukrainian experts, by contrast, try to integrate themselves into this war as part of the solution: if Ukraine helps the US shoot down Iranian drones, Washington will be less tempted to “grow tired” of the Ukrainian front. In the Korean discourse Iran barely figures: what matters far more is how the new confrontation will affect oil prices, American demand and the continuation of technological pressure on China, on which Korean exporters depend.

Second, all three spaces view American domestic processes — from infighting around Trump to debates about migration — as sources of external risk. For South Africa this is the risk of reduced American economic presence in Africa and increased regional instability; for Korea — unpredictability of tariff and technology policy toward Chinese and Korean goods; for Ukraine — the existential question of whether arms and funding shipments will continue. At the same time only the Ukrainian press endows American leaders with an almost personalist role: names like Trump and Biden in Ukrainian texts are always a question of “will we have ammunition in six months?” South African and Korean analysts discuss the same figures more as variables in large models — budgetary, energy, technological.

Finally, the tone is very telling. South Africa speaks of the US in a language of critical but pragmatic distance: “they are a superpower whose mistakes we pay for indirectly.” South Korea speaks in the language of balance sheets and the innovation race: “they are a partner and competitor you cannot separate from without loss.” Ukraine speaks in the language of dependence and attempts to overcome it: “they are a pillar, but we must become indispensable so that this pillar does not disappear.” Taken together, this creates a multilayered portrait of America, far from the notion of a unified “anti‑Americanism” or, conversely, a monolithic belief in the US. The world in 2026 looks at Washington no longer as the center around which everything turns, but as a powerful, though not the only, node in networks — financial, military, technological — in which each region tries to find a configuration that benefits it.

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"Peace at Any Price?" How the US Became the Nervous Center of Global Disputes — from Ukraine to...

Today, in spring 2026, discussion of the United States in the foreign press and expert circles centers on several interconnected narratives. Foremost is Washington’s attempt to impose its vision for ending the war in Ukraine, the emergence of a new American "peace council" and security architecture around that, and how this is breaking or reshaping US relations with Europe and Ukraine. Against this backdrop a new US–Israel war with Iran has unfolded, forcing Europeans and East Asian societies — from Germany to South Korea — to reassess American power strategy, the use of bases and infrastructure, and the risks to energy supplies and the global economy. Finally, as Donald Trump’s second presidency gains momentum, the question grows sharper: where is the boundary between "America First" and the responsibilities of a global hegemon?

The first major knot of disputes is the American "peace plan" for Ukraine and the accompanying idea to reform international institutions under Washington’s aegis. European and Ukrainian sources, as well as Russian and Middle Eastern media, describe the essence differently but with similar conclusions: Washington is trying to convert the war into a managed deal in which key parameters include not only the fate of Ukrainian territories but the very configuration of global security. Russian-language press contains many references to a 28-point plan attributed to the Trump administration, which, according to reports, would demand "significant concessions" from Kyiv — ceding all of eastern Donbas to Russia, de facto recognition of Moscow’s control over a number of other territories, renouncing NATO accession, and holding elections under a tight timetable and external oversight, with the creation of a special "peace council" led by the US president responsible for implementing the deal. Russian outlets such as Vzglyad and Meduza, citing Wall Street Journal publications, wrote about this in detail, analyzing how realistic such conditions are and what risks an attempt by Washington to "close" the war on these bases would pose for Ukraine. In one such analysis the Trump peace plan was directly described as a document by which "Ukraine must give up Donbas, reduce the size of its armed forces and renounce NATO," and the effect of this plan on Ukrainian politics and Russia’s position was discussed as part of a broader US strategy to repackage European security under its long-term priorities. Such interpretations reinforce a view common in Russian and some European discourse that the White House seeks "peace at any price" — but primarily at Ukraine’s expense.

Within Ukraine itself the reaction to American initiatives is far more complex and contradictory. In official discourse, Volodymyr Zelensky and his team balance between the need to maintain American support and a hard domestic line: no territorial concessions, peace only on the terms of restored sovereignty. In November 2025, commenting on versions of the "US plan," Zelensky publicly emphasized that Kyiv "will not agree to territorial concessions," and that any negotiations would concern only a full ceasefire and troop withdrawal. Local and foreign press juxtaposed this stance with leaks suggesting that Washington expects a prompt response from Kyiv, creating a sense of pressure: either agree to a painful compromise, or risk losing part of American military and financial support. In the Ukrainian public space two powerful strands of debate emerged: one about the acceptability of compromise to save lives and preserve the state, and the other about whether Ukraine is becoming a pawn in a game between the US and Russia. As Chatham House noted in an analytical piece, polls from early 2026 show that more than half of Ukrainians categorically reject the idea of withdrawing troops from still-controlled parts of Donbas in exchange for Western security guarantees. Against this backdrop any hints from Washington about a "realistic peace" are perceived by much of society not as concern for security but as an attempt to shift onto Ukraine the cost of restoring US–Russia relations and reducing risks for American domestic politics. For many in Kyiv the key fear is phrased this way: we may lose not only territory but agency if the final peace format is written in Washington and Moscow rather than in Kyiv and Brussels.

The European debate around the same American initiatives is built differently but concerns the same issues. In Germany and across the EU the dominant motif is: yes, we need the US, but Washington is no longer the guarantor of a global "common good" — it primarily bargains for its own interests. German press and think tanks actively discuss both the "peace plan" itself and the accompanying idea of a Trumpian "Peace Council" — an alternative or parallel mechanism to the UN Security Council in which the US would have a disproportionate role. In German-language coverage this initiative is often described as an attempt to "take global security out of the UN and NATO into a personalized, poorly controlled format where key decisions depend on the will of one or two leaders." At the same time experts, for example in studies by the Berlin-based SWP, ask whether this means Europe will finally have to shoulder the main burden of supporting Ukraine if the US sees its task as as rapid and managed "removal" of the Ukrainian question from the agenda. This motive is reflected in a recent Chatham House column that emphasized European military assistance to Ukraine rose by two-thirds in 2025 and the EU approved a multiyear package of €90 billion for 2026–27 — and against this background Europeans feel Washington is essentially trying to "capitalize" their efforts, turning them into leverage to pressure Kyiv toward a deal convenient for the US.

Against this background Germany becomes a convenient lens through which the divergence of expectations between Europe and the US is visible. German domestic debate exploded after the Munich Security Conference, where Chancellor Friedrich Merz, newly elected on a wave of "hard realities," tried both to distance himself from Washington and to reaffirm commitment to NATO. One characteristic comment in the left-leaning paper taz ran under the headline "Der Kniefall von Washington" — "Washington’s Bow," where author Stefan Reineke criticized the chancellor for, having gone to Trump to ask for tariff reductions and greater support for Ukraine, effectively legitimizing the new US–Israel war with Iran by publicly stating Germany supports that conflict. The article stressed that Merz "talks about Europe needing to learn the language of Machtpolitik, the politics of power, yet agrees to all of Washington’s ultimatums" — which, the author argued, turns Germany into a hostage of American military logic. On Deutschlandfunk programs that collect the international press, British and French analyses are regularly cited warning that the US proposal to expand the role of Kurdish forces and use Middle Eastern bases to strike Iran increases the risk of "chaotic civil war and further regional fragmentation," as The Guardian wrote in a recent editorial. It is Germany’s public sphere that is carefully weighing: how far can it go with the US without losing its own strategic autonomy and without becoming complicit in conflicts that European societies largely view as destabilizing.

Eastern Europe sounds a dual note in this story. On one hand, Polish and Baltic commentators often stress that they do not view American initiatives for peace in Ukraine as "betrayal of Kyiv" but as a reaction to American domestic fatigue and the need to prevent Russia from winning by dragging the war out. In the Polish newspaper Myśl Polska, which is not mainstream but is a notable national-conservative voice, a paradoxical thesis appeared: "the Trump plan is not a peace agreement but a position of his administration," reflecting that "peace has ceased to be unipolar, and US influence confronts growing resistance from China, Russia, India and other countries." The author argued a real peace is possible only through "serious closed negotiations," not via "a paper written on the fly." There is an important nuance for understanding Eastern Europe here: even those traditionally oriented toward the US increasingly see Washington not as a guarantor but as another player that bargains and permits rough tactical moves.

The most painful reaction to American peace activism, naturally, is in Ukraine itself. There, not only polls but local independent analysts and public figures emphasize that US pressure is perceived as a new form of constrained sovereignty. Ukrainian experts note that the idea of multinational forces on Ukrainian territory — which Europeans envision should "ensure the restoration of armed forces, security of the skies and seas" — intensifies anxiety: who will ultimately control their mandate — European capitals, NATO, or the White House? When reports surfaced in the international press that Russia was allegedly "in principle ready" to accept the American plan, Ukrainian media space experienced a sense that Moscow and Washington could strike a deal over Kyiv’s head.

The second major narrative is the new US–Israel war with Iran and how it is perceived in Europe, the post‑Soviet space and East Asia. In German and East European press the prevailing motif is that Washington is returning to a logic of force management in the Middle East, where strikes, special operations and support for regional allies are presented as "local" actions but carry systemic risks. German official briefings by the Foreign Office and the government, posted on Auswärtiges Amt and the chancellor’s site, cautiously remind readers that the use of the Ramstein air base by Americans is governed by a bilateral agreement, that Germany adheres to its commitments but is not directly at war in the Middle East. Nevertheless, criticism is voiced in parliament and the media: if Ramstein is a key logistics platform for US and Israeli operations, does Germany not bear political and moral responsibility for the consequences of airstrikes on Iranian sites and infrastructure? Analysts simultaneously warn about risks to oil and gas supplies: any escalation involving Iran inevitably hits energy markets, and therefore Germany’s economy, which has already endured years of turbulence due to the break with Russia.

In post‑Soviet and Middle Eastern media, for example in the Georgian outlet JNEWS, the US–Israel conflict with Iran is analyzed through the prism of regional elites and opportunities. Experts interviewed by that portal noted that the Iranian drone strike on facilities in Nakhchivan heightened anxiety in South Caucasus countries, but at the same time the US–Israel war with Iran opens a window of opportunity for local governments — redistribution of transit flows and strengthening their role in the regional security architecture. These voices stress that officially none of the South Caucasus states has yet decided to "take anyone’s side," and that is the new reality: states are trying to play between Washington, Moscow, Tehran and Brussels without hard-aligning with any camp.

A third cross-cutting theme uniting reactions in Germany, Ukraine and the wider Russian-language sphere is growing fatigue and mistrust about how the US uses its leadership. German conservative and liberal commentators debate whether it is possible to continue building European strategy on the assumption of a "predictable America." In a late‑2025 German analytical review, former US ambassador to NATO Ivo Daalder was quoted saying Europe faces a choice: whether to regard "tactical victories" — individual aid packages to Ukraine, sanctions against Russia — as enough to win the "strategic war" to preserve the transatlantic alliance. Some German authors already answer negatively: in their view, the deep rupture between the EU and "Trump’s America" on Russia and Ukraine is not a temporary misunderstanding but a new structural fact.

In Russian‑language analysis — both Ukrainian and Russian — another, no less telling motif appears: the US can no longer and no longer wants to bear the burden of a "universal arbiter," and therefore is forced to bargain, to make deals that ten years ago would have been unacceptable. In a Meduza podcast dissecting the new American peace plan in detail, the point was made that the American administration effectively recognizes the limits of its ability to "crush" Russia economically and militarily and therefore moves to a logic of "fixing the conflict at an acceptable level for us, even if it is not the level at which Russia would be decisively pushed back." The political effect inside the US is also important: Trump sells voters the image of "a man who knows how to end wars," while abroad this is perceived as cynicism and a willingness to sacrifice principles for electoral gain.

Even where the US remains an indispensable partner — as in Germany or Ukraine — a layer of debate is growing that any alliance with Washington today must be built on much firmer calculation rather than faith in "shared values." For Europeans this means strengthening their own defense industry, creating parallel formats — from the European initiative for multinational forces in Ukraine to attempts to reform the UN without relying on the US. For Ukraine — finding ways to integrate American initiatives so they do not undermine domestic legitimacy and demoralize society. For Russian‑ and Middle Eastern‑language commentators — rethinking the phenomenon of American leadership itself: no longer as unequivocal "imperial evil" or "bulwark of democracy," but as a complex, contradictory actor that brings both risks and opportunities.

Finally, there is another, less visible but important line: the attitude of non‑European powers to American peace activism and the Middle Eastern war. In comments from Japanese, Turkish and South Caucasus experts featured in Russian‑language and European media, there is a sense of trying to exploit contradictions between the US and Europe and Russia to extract benefits — be they new contracts, transit routes or political clout. Japanese prime minister Shigeru Ishiba, quoted in one Russian news feed, bluntly noted that Ukraine must understand: without US help it cannot continue to fight, and that supposedly gives Washington the right to dictate the terms of peace. Yet the same commentary points to another side: such dependence also benefits Russia, which gains the ability to harden its demands if it sees Washington and Moscow effectively playing a joint game of imposing a compromise on Kyiv.

All these disparate voices — from Berlin editorial columns and Kyiv evening addresses to Chatham House analysis and post‑Soviet news sites — form a common picture. The US remains the central player without whom neither the Ukrainian war, nor the Middle Eastern crisis, nor the reform of global institutions can be resolved. But precisely for that reason each step by Washington is now subject to very different demands than ten or twenty years ago. Europeans demand real partnership and recognition of their contributions and risks, Ukrainians demand respect for their sovereign choice and limits of compromise, and countries of the Global South and the post‑Soviet space demand the right not to be automatically dragged into American wars. In that sense the current moment is a test not only for the US but for the entire "collective West": will it be possible to turn an attempt at "peace at any price" into an honest, albeit painful, resetting of rules, or will the world witness yet another great‑power deal at the expense of those on the front line?

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How the World Sees America Today: War with Iran, Ukraine, and a Tariff Shock for South Africa

The American agenda has again become a leading topic for foreign columnists and experts — but today the conversation about the United States is torn across several fronts. In the Russian and Ukrainian press, attention is fixed on Washington’s role in the war with Iran and the “stalled” negotiations on Ukraine. In South Africa, the image of the US is currently shaped primarily through the prism of trade wars and 30-percent tariffs that have hit jobs and the country’s export model. Everywhere one question is heard: to what extent are the United States still capable of managing crises they themselves set in motion, and how do their current policies resonate with local interests?

The central theme in Russia, Ukraine and much of the global press has become the US‑Israeli war with Iran, which began with massive strikes by the US and Israel on Iranian targets on February 28, 2026. Russian publications emphasize that this is not just an episode in the Middle East, but a conflict that will be “protracted” and will draw Washington into the region for a long time. A video commentary by the newspaper Vzglyad under the characteristic headline “War with Iran — this is for a long time” is built around the idea that the US and Israeli attack will inevitably grow into a war lasting months, not weeks, and is already drawing in other opponents of Washington: the authors cite analysis in The Washington Post noting that another major US rival has effectively entered the game. In their view, this demonstrates that American deterrence is cracking, and the circle of opponents is widening, even if they do not officially announce direct participation. (vz.ru)

Russian translations of Western conservative authors view the events through the same prism. InoSMI retells an article in The American Conservative under the headline “A protracted war with Iran will weaken American deterrence of China and Russia,” which argues that at best Washington can expect a split within the Iranian armed forces and the risk of a civil war that will throw the region into even greater chaos. It also stresses that China, Russia and the DPRK are currently “detained” only because they consider direct aggression against the US too costly, but they are carefully looking for “the slightest signs of American weakness.” (inosmi.ru) In the Russian interpretation this reads as confirmation of a long‑standing narrative: the US is getting bogged down in unnecessary wars, losing its ability to pressure Moscow and Beijing.

The Ukrainian agenda links the US‑Israeli war with Iran to a completely different set of fears — the fate of talks with Russia and the risk of a reduction in Western aid. Gazeta.ru, in a political analysis of the trilateral meeting of Russia, Ukraine and the US in Geneva, reminds that the new round of talks, which was to take place on March 5–6, was “put on pause” after Volodymyr Zelensky announced that the US and Israel had launched a military operation against Iran. (gazeta.ru) For the Ukrainian audience this appears as a painful confirmation of Kyiv’s vulnerability: a key ally can at any moment switch attention to another theater of military operations. Ukrainian and Russian Telegram channels cited in the local press are already speculating on how the new war will affect weapons deliveries, PAC‑3 interceptor stocks, and how long the West can simultaneously support Ukraine and the Middle Eastern campaign. A Russian translation of Morgan Stanley’s analysis published on Investing.com emphasizes that limited interceptor production and the need to replenish stocks will be among the factors that could prolong active hostilities with Iran. (ru.investing.com) In Kyiv this is read not only as a financial but also as a military‑technical signal: the resource “carpet” under Ukraine may gradually be drawn in.

A separate layer of discussion in Russia and Ukraine concerns how the current war with Iran fits into the ongoing Ukrainian conflict. Russian reviews of the progress of the “special military operation” emphasize that the negotiation process has “stalled in the fog,” and American arms supplies to Ukraine “could be minimized” because of the flare‑up in the Middle East. (tenchat.ru) For Russian commentators this is an argument for strategic patience: that is, a war of attrition while waiting for the US to be distracted and burn out. Ukrainian voices, by contrast, insist that precisely now, while the US is involved in multiple crises, it is dangerous for Kyiv to make concessions; in Ukrainian interviews with European media Volodymyr Zelensky emphasizes that Ukraine “does not intend to withdraw troops” from Donbas, signaling that the internal window for compromise is narrowing. (gazeta.ru)

Against this background, the South African angle appears unique: here the US is discussed primarily not as a military superpower but as a trade hegemon whose decisions affect tens of thousands of jobs. The perception of America in South Africa in recent months has been almost entirely dominated by the “liberating tariffs” of the Trump administration — 30‑percent duties on a wide range of South African goods that took effect in August 2025. Government structures in Pretoria, in a series of statements, emphasized that exports to the US accounted for about 8% of all South African shipments and called the tariffs “incomprehensible,” especially given that South Africa’s share of total US imports does not exceed a quarter of a percent. (parliament.gov.za) Official statements say such a high tariff “makes our goods less competitive” and undermines the country’s investment attractiveness as a manufacturing hub for the American market.

South African economists and business associations in columns for the local press go beyond dry statistics. Professor Raymond Parsons, in a comment for the Sunday Times Daily, notes that the US decision on a 30‑percent tariff “is not good news for the South African economy” and that its potential negative effect “should not be underestimated,” especially given already high unemployment. According to him, such duties are “a significant deterrent to foreign direct investment,” directly undermining South Africa’s role as a production base for the American consumer. (timeslive.co.za) Analysts at Economic Research Southern Africa, in a specialized study, model an increase in the weighted average tariff for South African exports to the US from 0.4% to 16.8% and warn that by mid‑2026 cumulative job losses could reach 30–50 thousand, increasing the risk of social tension in industrial regions. (econrsa.org)

Against this backdrop, a significant psychological milestone was the February news from Washington: the US Supreme Court ruled parts of the Trump administration’s global tariffs unlawful, opening the way for their reduction. South African media greeted this with cautious relief. Business outlet IOL wrote that after the court decision tariffs for South Africa could be adjusted to 15% rather than 30%, although business insists that “only 2026 will show the real impact” of this ruling. (iol.co.za) In a Semafor column South African business leaders are described as “relieved but not deluded”: yes, the shock is softened, but confidence in the predictability of American trade policy is undermined, and many companies are accelerating market diversification. (semafor.com) At the same time, there is a demonstrative turn to China: as Associated Press reported, Pretoria signed a framework agreement on a new trade deal with Beijing, hoping to compensate part of the losses in the American market through duty‑free access for a range of goods, including agricultural products, to the Chinese market. (apnews.com) As a result, in South African discourse the US is increasingly described not as a guarantor of open globalization but as a source of “tariff arbitrariness” pushing the country into the arms of alternative partners.

Notably, in South Africa the US‑Israeli war with Iran is discussed primarily through an economic prism, not through the moral‑political categories that dominate in Europe. BusinessTech, in its review of business confidence for Q1 2026, notes that when South African business seemed to be emerging from the prolonged Covid slump, the “US war in Iran” became a new external shock threatening oil prices around $100 per barrel. The authors reassure that this price spike is likely temporary and that the South African Reserve Bank “views it as a one‑off shock” not requiring an immediate rate hike. (businesstech.co.za) But the very framing is telling: while Moscow and Kyiv debate Washington’s strategy and the military balance, Johannesburg compares the impact of American wars and tariffs on petrol prices, the budget and unemployment levels.

There is one more quiet but important motif that links all three countries in their perception of the US: fatigue with American unpredictability. In the Russian and Ukrainian discourse this is expressed in skepticism about Washington’s ability to hold multiple fronts at once. The commentary relaying The American Conservative on InoSMI explicitly says that a prolonged war with Iran “undermines our power” at a moment when rivals look for signs of weakness; Russian analysts, citing this, essentially use an American conservative voice as justification for their own thesis: the US no longer controls the global chessboard. (inosmi.ru) In Kyiv this turns into anxiety: dependence on decisions by the US Congress, on internal American elections and now on the course of the Middle Eastern campaign makes the future of assistance extremely uncertain, and the possibility of “fatigue with Ukraine” more real.

In South Africa the same unpredictability is felt in a different dimension. First — the aggressive tariff move under rhetoric of “reciprocity” and “fairness for American workers,” then — a partial reversal after the Supreme Court decision, and simultaneously — debates in Washington about the future of the AGOA preferential program. For South African experts this is a signal that building long‑term strategies relying solely on the American market and a “rules‑based order” has become risky. In an analytical review BNP Paribas, on “South Africa’s resilience in the face of US tariffs,” explicitly states that despite an expected budget surplus and relative macro stability, the country is forced to accelerate export diversification and adapt to an “extremely volatile” trade environment. (economic-research.bnpparibas.com)

From this plurality of voices a single, if ambiguous, image emerges. For Russia, America is an overloaded hegemon stuck in wars, whose “hyperactivity” in Iran and Ukraine will only weaken it in the long run, opening space for Moscow and Beijing. For Ukraine, it remains an indispensable patron whose decisions determine the life of the front and the talks, but a patron who is tired, torn by internal conflicts and dragged into new wars. For South Africa, it is a partner capable of overnight upending economic conditions and thereby pushing the country to reorient toward other centers of power.

In all three cases attitudes toward the US rarely fit simple friend‑or‑foe schemas anymore. They increasingly resemble attitudes toward a force of nature: it can be feared, it can be tried to be used, but one cannot count on stability. And that is, perhaps, the main thing that unites current Russian, Ukrainian and South African conversations about America — the sense that the era of predictable American leadership is over, and what has replaced it so far brings more risks than reassurance.

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Washington in the Mirror of the East: How Israel, India and China See America Today

In early March 2026, the image of the United States in non-American perspectives is formed not from abstract reflections about the "leader of the free world" but from very concrete storylines: a war alongside Israel against Iran, trade and strategic deals with India, and a protracted confrontation with China in which Beijing increasingly speaks of an "information war" and "double standards." In Israel, there is debate over whether the "iron" alliance with Washington will withstand the test of a full-scale war. In India, commentators ask whether Washington is turning New Delhi into an instrument of its Middle East policy and a hostage to US–China competition. In China, official media and experts interpret recent US actions in the region and rhetoric toward Beijing as a continuation of a containment strategy where military, economic and values-based discourse are intertwined.

The central axis of current discussions is the US–Israel–Iran war, in which US participation has become the main factor shaping both regional and global reactions. In Israel many commentators emphasize Benjamin Netanyahu’s personal choice: he is integrating a long-standing concept of an "existential struggle" with the Iranian regime into a framework of near-total dependence on the United States. American outlets like the Associated Press note that by persuading Donald Trump to expand US involvement in the war against Iran, Netanyahu has simultaneously increased risks for bilateral relations: a war with the regime in Tehran could turn into a prolonged conflict for Washington with hard-to-predict consequences, and for Israel — a situation in which American support may be limited by US domestic fatigue with the Middle East.(apnews.com)

Israeli public opinion — according to polls such as a March survey by the Israel Democracy Institute — shows high approval for joint operations against Iran, but analytic and opinion pieces in the Hebrew press carry a leitmotif: Israel has effectively "mortgaged" its security strategy on the continuation of American involvement. Several commentators warn that the historical "insurance" of an automatic American veto and military aid no longer looks eternal, given divisions within the US itself over Middle Eastern wars. Local columnists recall the experiences of Iraq and Afghanistan: where Washington quickly entered wars, it likewise sought to leave them quickly, leaving allies with incomplete or altered mandates.

If the Israeli debate focuses on the dilemma "how far will American support go," the Indian conversation about America centers on the question "at what cost to us this support comes." In recent days the Hindi press has been full of alarmed assessments of the war’s consequences for India’s energy security. Several editorials note that the destruction by US forces of the Iranian warship IRIS Dena off the coast of Sri Lanka — the same vessel that shortly before had participated in international exercises at Vishakhapatnam at India’s invitation — damages Delhi’s image as an independent actor capable of maintaining relations with both Washington and Tehran. In Hindi Saamana this scene is described with almost offended surprise: a ship that arrived in India as a guest soon after the exercises becomes a US target.(hindisaamana.com)

Alongside the military agenda, Indian commentators analyze the economic component of relations with the US. Commerce and Industry Minister Piyush Goyal recently said India received "the best" trade deal compared to competitors, stressing reductions in mutual tariffs to 18% and the potential for further growth of Indian exports to the American market.(ibc24.in) But in several pieces from the Raisina Dialogue 2026, Indian authors are noticeably more cautious: remarks by US Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau in Delhi that Washington "will not allow India to become another China and surpass the US" caused wide resonance. As The Lallantop writes, these statements outlined a "red line" of American economic policy: cooperation with India, yes, but not to the extent that could create a competitor to Washington itself.(thelallantop.com)

Against this backdrop sharply critical voices arise. In an analytical piece on Satyahindi the war with Iran is called a reason to reassess Indian foreign policy: the author asks whether the Modi government has "capitulated" under US pressure, abandoning a long-standing line of "strategic autonomy." The observation that Indian oil imports from Iran are threatened by the conflict is linked to historical episodes of US pressure — from threats to halt grain shipments in the 1960s to sanctions on Iranian oil in the 21st century.(hindi.newsgram.com) For part of India’s intellectual community, America remains a partner whose capabilities cannot be ignored, but whose geopolitical priorities constantly force New Delhi to balance among Washington, Tehran, Moscow and Beijing. Hence headlines like "Balanced diplomacy is the only right way," where editors call not to let either the US or China monopolize India’s foreign-policy agenda.(amritvichar.com)

The Chinese conversation about America in March 2026 is less emotional but more systematic: the US is seen as a source of simultaneous military threat, economic pressure and ideological coercion under slogans of "human rights" and "democracy." In a fresh Chinese-language editorial reprint from South Korea’s Hankyoreh Beijing edition it is emphasized that the American strike on Iran was carried out "without any basis in international law" and creates "chaos for which Washington shifts the responsibility onto others." Chinese and Beijing-aligned authors, echoing this thesis, see it as confirmation of their own position: the US, they say, is accustomed to acting "through force rather than through law," thereby undermining the very international order it claims to defend.(china.hani.co.kr)

On Chinese analytical platforms such as Toutiao, US policy toward China is described as 舆论战 — a war of narratives. An article by Liu Shibaba notes that American media in 2026 "repeatedly in editorials painted scenarios: should the US and China go to war — for China it would be a one-way road," and interprets this as an element of psychological pressure rather than the result of a "full military assessment." He cites data on the high dependence of the American military-industrial complex on Chinese supplies of rare-earth metals: about 87% of US needs in this area are met from China, and after Chinese restrictions on exports prices for certain items "almost tripled," stalling a number of projects.(toutiao.com)

This Chinese perspective is interesting because it mirrors American discussions: if in the US strategists often discuss "dependence" on Chinese industry as a strategic risk, in Beijing they emphasize the vulnerability of the American system itself to its own sanctions. The same article also recalls volatility in high-tech stock markets: weakening Chinese demand led, the author estimates, to a one-day market-cap drop for NVIDIA close to $100 billion — another argument for the thesis that "sanctions and countermeasures appear on the same line of a financial statement."(toutiao.com)

A separate layer comprises commentary on US "double standards" on human rights and democracy. The People’s Daily in one review cites a quote from India’s The Times of India noting that Washington, "ignoring its own serious domestic problems, applies double standards to human rights in other countries," making its "moralizing posture unconvincing."(world.people.com.cn) For a Chinese audience, excerpts from the Indian press are a convenient tool to show that dissatisfaction with American "lectures" is shared not only by Beijing and Moscow but also by major democracies of the Global South.

Notably, India and China often appear in the same sentence when it comes to US positioning. In Indian texts after Landau’s speech in Delhi the question arose: "Does America look at India with the same eyes it is used to looking at China?" — that is, as a potential threat to its status rather than only as a partner.(thelallantop.com) In Chinese international-relations literature, in turn, it is emphasized that Washington seeks to prevent the emergence of "equal centers of power," whether China or India, and prefers to build bilateral ties so that a partner remains dependent both on security and economically.

A common motif in Israeli, Indian and Chinese texts is growing wariness about the unpredictability of American policy. In Jerusalem this concern is framed as a fear that a domestic political crisis in the US or a change of administration could abruptly alter the terms of support in the midst of a war with Iran. In New Delhi — as anxiety that energy security and multivector diplomacy will be subordinated to Washington’s agenda on Iran and China. In Beijing — as a conviction that the US uses any regional escalation to strengthen military infrastructure and coalitions around China while simultaneously advancing value-based claims.

Yet in all three countries America remains a necessary, not merely irritating, factor. Israeli writers acknowledge: without the US the war with Iran’s leadership would look far riskier and Israeli defense less sustainable. Indian ministers like Piyush Goyal continue to emphasize the benefits of trade deals and access to the world’s largest market, even as critics remind of pressure over Iran and the "red lines" of growth.(ibc24.in) Chinese analysts, while criticizing American policy, do not hide that global technological and financial interdependence is such that a sharp "decoupling" would harm both Beijing and Washington.

It is this combination of dependence and distrust that makes current perceptions of the US in Israel, India and China so contradictory. For a battlefield ally, Washington is a guarantor of survival and military superiority, but also a source of strategic risk. For a state balancing between blocs, it is a key economic and technological partner, but also a political factor constantly testing "strategic autonomy." For a systemic rival, it is an ideological and military challenge, but also a central element of the global architecture that cannot simply be abandoned without damaging one’s own economy.

These nuances, clearly audible in Israeli, Indian and Chinese voices, seldom figure in American domestic debate, which tends to divide the world into "friends" and "foes." Yet it is through such local optics that one can see how much the image of the US today contains not only strength or weakness, but ambivalence: America simultaneously needs these countries and fears their strengthening, while they simultaneously rely on the US and try to protect themselves from excessive dependence.

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The World Looks to Washington: Why the US Is Central for Riyadh, Brasília and...

At the beginning of 2026, the United States once again occupies a central place in the political debates of three very different societies — Saudi Arabia, Brazil and Israel. But the conversation about the US in each of them is about different things: for Saudis it is primarily a question of a new security and technology architecture; for Brazilians — a reference point and at the same time an irritant in debates about democracy, the economy and climate; for Israelis — an existential question about security guarantees and the American military presence in the Middle East. If you look only at American media, it gives the impression that the world discusses Washington in a rather one‑dimensional logic of “for” or “against” Trump and his policies. Local media in the three countries paint a very different picture: the US is perceived as a necessary but increasingly problematic center of power that one must adapt to, bargain with, and which — despite its strength — no longer seems omnipotent to everyone.

The first major storyline linking Saudi Arabia and Israel, and indirectly affecting Brazil, is the return of American “hard power” to regional politics and the new role of the US in the security architecture. In Arab analysis regarding Saudi Arabia, the idea is increasingly heard that relations with Washington have transformed from the classic scheme of “security in exchange for oil” into a much more complex system of “functional partnership.” In one recent analytical piece about “American strategic perceptions of Saudi Arabia,” the author describes how Washington is reclassifying the kingdom from a “key military ally” to a “technology and investment partner,” but under strict control in sensitive areas such as AI and semiconductors. In his formulation, agreements in AI and microchips create a regime of “mutual dependence, but under growing American oversight,” within which Saudi Arabia is not granted full technological sovereignty, but only access to US capabilities in exchange for political and economic loyalty. (iqraa24.com)

For Saudi commentators this is simultaneously an opportunity and a risk. On the one hand, in the logic of Vision 2030 Washington is needed as a source of technologies, investments and dollar financial infrastructure. On the other — there is growing concern that dependence on American technological and financial chains will become an instrument of political pressure, especially amid tougher US sanction policies toward other countries in the region. In this context the US dollar itself becomes a topic of daily discussion at Saudi economic forums and in specialist press: when discussing a potential rise in the dollar following strong US labor market data and a possible delay in Fed rate cuts, market participants directly link the prospects for the Saudi stock market and oil prices to the US economic cycle, acknowledging that “any changes in the dollar’s value can indirectly affect the Saudi market.” (hawamer.com)

The Israeli discussion about the US is built around a different aspect of American power — the military. In Hebrew media they continue to analyze both the strategic consequences of many years of American troop presence in Iraq and Syria and plans for their withdrawal. A year and a half ago Israeli media were closely analyzing reports that the United States would withdraw its forces from Iraq by the end of 2026 as part of an agreement with Baghdad, emphasizing that American bases in that country served not only to stabilize Iraq but also as a springboard for strikes against structures of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and pro‑Iranian forces. (c14.co.il) For Israeli commentators this is not an abstract news item about a distant war, but a question of how reliably the US will contain Iran if American presence “across the river” — in Iraq and Syria — is effectively reduced. Against this backdrop, Donald Trump’s latest “state of the ally” report to Congress attracted considerable attention: Israeli business and political outlets closely dissected his emphasis on “peace through strength,” a record defense budget of around a trillion dollars, and tough rhetoric on Iran, where he warned that Washington “will not allow the leading sponsor of terrorism to possess nuclear weapons” and insisted on a new agreement that would include limits on ballistic missiles and support for armed groups. (bizportal.co.il)

These statements are received in Israel with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the idea of “peace through strength” and expanding anti‑missile systems together with the threat to Iran is seen as a welcome return to the line that part of the Israeli establishment considered weakened in recent years. On the other — the economic details of the same American discourse raise concern: Israeli economists stress that rising military spending pushes the US federal deficit to around 6% of GDP and heightens questions about the sustainability of American finances, which means that dollar liquidity and global financial markets — to which both Israeli and Saudi economies are tied — will operate under increased volatility. (bizportal.co.il)

Saudi and other Middle Eastern analysts add another layer: the US return to a policy of demonstrative force in the region. In one Arabic column widely discussed on social media, US strikes on Iranian sites and associated structures were described as “the turning point of 2026 in the Middle East,” a signal not only to enemies but also to allies that America intends to resume the role of the unchallenged power arbiter. The author noted the “silent welcome” of the Gulf states to these strikes, seeing in them not only a reduction of tension but also a reminder that Washington still stands behind the security umbrella. (whia.us) For Riyadh this is both a relief and a reminder of the cost of that umbrella: the more the US intervenes in the region by force, the higher the expectations for political alignment and the more painful any divergence from the American course on Iran, Yemen or Syria becomes for Saudi autonomy.

Against this backdrop Brazilian press discusses the US more as a global reference and contrast than as a direct military protector. In major outlets like Folha de S. Paulo or O Globo, the United States becomes a mirror in debates about democracy, populism and economic models: Trump serves as a “laboratory,” on the basis of which Brazilian authors dissect their own experience of bolsonarismo and current political polarization. In a typical column published in the Brazilian press after another of Trump’s addresses to Congress, the author draws a parallel between American debates over migration and Brazilian disputes over the border with Venezuela and internal security, stressing that “the American temptation of simple solutions through harsh border control” is very similar to the rhetoric of the right wing in Brazil, but does not solve structural economic problems either there or here.

At the same time Brazilian economic commentators closely follow American macroeconomic indicators, largely because they determine future Fed decisions and therefore global conditions for developing economies. The same figures that in Israeli media appear in the context of a debate about the advisability of a huge defense budget — moderate US GDP growth of about 1.4% at the end of 2025 amid a prolonged “shutdown” and comparatively low job creation — are used in Brazil as an argument in debates about the global interest rate cycle and prospects for capital inflows to emerging markets. (bizportal.co.il) In local columns the US appears less as an “empire” and more as “the world’s central bank,” and the key question is: how long can the American economy endure the combination of high rates, rising military spending and political polarization, and at what point will this turn into a new wave of instability for countries like Brazil?

Another cross‑cutting storyline is the perception of the internal state of American society. In the Arab press, including outlets oriented to a regional audience from the Levant to the Gulf, discussions cover not only Washington’s foreign policy but also a growing fatigue among some Americans with their own state. In one detailed piece on American migration dynamics in recent years, the author, relying on survey and statistical data, noted that by 2025 roughly one in five Americans declared a desire to “leave the US forever if possible,” with this share especially high among young women. Against the backdrop of a sharp increase in net immigration in 2024, subsequent tightening of immigration policy and a decline in inflows in 2025 are interpreted there not as “people fleeing America en masse” but as “America reducing the number of arrivals,” thereby changing its historical image as a “nation of immigrants.” (aawsat.com)

For a Saudi audience this analysis matters not only as an image of “Western crisis” but also as an explanation of why the US might become less open to students, specialists and investment from Gulf countries. In Israel such texts feed the debate about the “reliability” of American society as a long‑term guarantor of alliance obligations: if internal frictions, demographic and social imbalances grow within the US itself, how stable will its foreign line be over a 10–20 year horizon?

In the Brazilian press the same figures are read differently: America acts as a warning that even wealthy democracies can face “brain drain” and erosion of trust in institutions. Brazilian columnists, discussing these surveys, compare them with sentiments among their own students and professionals, for whom the US has traditionally been the main emigration destination. An interesting motif emerges: if America becomes less attractive or less accessible, how will this change the trajectories of Latin American migration and the balance of power in the Western Hemisphere?

Particularly notable is the difference in how the three countries view US economic power. In Saudi discussions on forums and in the media the US appears as an unquestionable economic giant with GDP over $30 trillion — a starting point when discussing Saudi Arabia’s own “leap” toward a top‑10 global economy status. In one popular discussion that spread through the Saudi Reddit segment, users compare expected GDP volumes of the largest economies in 2026, noting the US at roughly $31.8 trillion and placing Saudi Arabia around $2.8 trillion, presented as a “bold but achievable” result for a country recently considered a purely oil appendage. (reddit.com) Here the US is more a benchmark and goal for catch‑up development than a political object of irritation.

In Israel US economic power is seen as the foundation of the strategic alliance: an American defense budget of a trillion dollars is not an abstract number but a concrete source of funding for joint missile defense programs, weapons supplies and Washington’s political weight in international organizations. At the same time Israeli economists and officials publishing reviews of the American economy on government resources increasingly point to risks for Washington itself: slowing growth, high debt burdens, and political conflict over budget priorities. (gov.il) This duality — “America as an indispensable ally” and “America as a potential source of financial instability” — becomes an important part of Israel’s conversation about the need to diversify markets and partners, from India to Gulf countries.

For Brazil the US is economically both partner and competitor. In Brazilian trade policy analyses Washington appears as a center that simultaneously needs South American resources and markets, but is also ready to apply protectionist and sanction tools to the detriment of Brazil’s interests, whether in agriculture, green energy or technology. Here the debate sharply diverges from the American perspective: what in Washington is often presented as “fair measures in response to unfair competition” from Beijing or other players, Brazilian authors see as an attempt to lock in global inequality in access to high‑tech value chains.

Finally, the three countries view the cultural and symbolic role of the US differently, but everywhere there is a trend toward a “normalization of America” — from the image of an exceptional superpower to perceiving it as another large but troubled country. In Saudi and broader Arab texts the US is increasingly described as an actor that “makes mistakes, learns and is forced to step back,” not an omnipotent power: they discuss the American withdrawal from Iraq, “fatigue” with long wars, and internal disputes over migration and identity. In Israel, despite part of society’s emotional attachment to the “American dream” and close personal ties, rational skepticism is growing: more analysts explicitly write that Israel needs to prepare for a world in which the US remains the most important but no longer the only or always predictable patron. In Brazil cultural influence from the US remains strong — from film to tech platforms — but it is mixed with fatigue and a desire for greater autonomy: American trends in culture, politics and economics are no longer seen as the natural “standard” but rather as one possible reference among European and Asian models.

Putting all these fragments together produces a paradoxical image. Saudi Arabia, Brazil and Israel see different things in America — a security guarantor, a democracy laboratory, a financial anchor or a source of instability — but in each of the three debates the US no longer appears as a static “center of the world.” On the contrary, American policy and society are seen there as mobile, contradictory and vulnerable. This “normalization of America” does not negate its power but changes the tone: instead of former admiration or blind anti‑Americanism a harder pragmatism is sounding louder. Riyadh bargains with Washington for technology and autonomy, Jerusalem for security guarantees and long‑term commitments, Brasília for economic space and respect for its interests. For a reader accustomed to the American media bell that frames the world as either “following the US” or “rebelling against it,” the local voices of these countries may sound surprising: they speak of the United States as a partner whose absence would be costly, but whom no one is ready to treat anymore as the infallible center of the universe.

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How the World Sees America in March 2026: Middle East War, Trump 2 and the US Economy...

At the beginning of March 2026, the United States is seen almost everywhere primarily as a country of war and risk — military, financial, political. In the news, columns and expert texts from South Korea, France and China, the US appears in three major roles: as the main military actor in the new escalation in the Middle East, as a source of global economic uncertainty, and as an increasingly unpredictable political center under Donald Trump’s second term. In each society, discussion of America is closely intertwined with domestic fears and hopes: Koreans think about security and tariffs, the French about Europe’s sovereignty and inflation, and the Chinese about the risks of war and technological strangulation.

The first major storyline is the rapid buildup of US military presence in the Middle East and the related escalation around Iran. French analytical texts emphasize that this is “the largest US deployment in the region since the 2003 invasion of Iraq,” with massive use of air power, the navy and air defense systems against the backdrop of tough confrontation with Tehran over its nuclear program and the bloody suppression of protests in Iran in 2025–2026. (fr.wikipedia.org) French columnists see two threads here at once: on one hand, it is a return of the “old America” — a power that resolves crises through displays of force; on the other hand, it is a test of how willing European allies are to be drawn into a conflict they do not control. In one French piece on the “geopolitical shock of March 2026” the author directly links European market nervousness to expectations about US employment and Fed actions: the riskier Washington’s stance in the region looks, the more investors fret and the more attention is paid to any US economic data. (boursetechnique.com)

Chinese commentary views the same crisis very differently. In the Chinese media space there are assessments that American outlets “in their editorials repeatedly instill: ‘if a war starts between the US and China, China will have nowhere to go’” — described as part of an information war rather than sober military analysis. The author of a popular Chinese column reminds readers that the US military‑industrial complex is deeply tied to China’s raw materials base: about 87% of US defense-related rare earth needs are supplied by China, a single F‑35 requires hundreds of kilograms of rare earths, and after Chinese export restrictions prices for some items allegedly nearly tripled, forcing some projects to “slow down rather than simply ‘change suppliers’.” (toutiao.com) In this Chinese narrative, the US military buildup in the Middle East is another sign of an “empire running on fumes” that simultaneously depends on China and tries to contain it.

Overlaying this is a very recent agenda around US strikes on Iran and the broader Middle Eastern crisis: Chinese and overseas Chinese-language platforms discuss reports that “Trump finally struck Iran,” explosions near the US embassy in Saudi Arabia, Iranian threats to close the strait, and a “final battle in the Middle East.” (chineseinla.com) In these discussions the US appears both as an aggressor and as a player that is trapping itself in a protracted conflict. For France, by contrast, the American military pivot in the region becomes an argument for Europe’s “strategic autonomy”: if Washington is occupied with Iran and internal crises, the EU should rely less on the American umbrella.

The second persistent theme is the US economy as a source of global instability. French economic commentators in early March almost simultaneously write about the “markets’ nervous evaluation of US employment data” and debate whether the American economy will hit a “deflationary wall” or, conversely, trigger a new wave of inflation in 2026. One French analytical site reminds readers that with historically low household savings rates in 2024–2025, if the Fed continues to cut rates, inflation “is highly likely to return by the third quarter of 2026.” (lesakerfrancophone.fr) On another resource the author dissects how each new US labor market figure instantly reshapes expectations about Fed rates and stock prices: weak employment growth both pushes the Fed toward easier policy and signals an economic slowdown, and the balance between those factors determines the fate of growth sectors and cyclic industries worldwide. (sergeytereshkin.fr)

Chinese analytical texts go further and literally deconstruct the myth of “American exceptionalism.” One review piece cites the rise in the US deficit and debt burden, rating downgrades and forecasts from international institutions that say tariffs imposed by Washington “will primarily hit the American economy itself by 2026,” not China. (mbrb.greatwuyi.com) Chinese economists emphasize that sanctions and tariffs are a “double-edged sword”: in the semiconductor chain alone up to 400,000 US jobs are directly linked to exports to China, and January’s collapse in NVIDIA’s market value by tens of billions of dollars amid worsening expectations for the Chinese market is cited as an example that “sanctions and those punished by them ultimately converge on the same line in the profit and loss statement.” (toutiao.com)

The South Korean perspective is more pragmatic and alarmed at the same time. Here America is not an abstract center of capitalism but a key market and political suzerain capable at any moment of shaking up the rules of the game. Korean experts in studies on “dual uncertainty” directly warn that a second Trump administration means a hard “America First,” universal tariffs and pressure on allies over defense spending, and Seoul must be ready to adapt economic and defense policy to the “new America.” (freiheit.org) In analysis aimed at a business audience it is emphasized that major Korean investors in the US — battery, chip and car manufacturers — planned under Biden’s green and industrial agenda, and now fear a turn toward tariff wars and subsidy renegotiations. (reddit.com)

From this flows the third major block — perceptions of US politics and of Donald Trump. For South Korea this is primarily a matter of security and tariffs. Even during Trump’s first term many Koreans were outraged by his accusations that Seoul “does not pay enough for defense,” a point recalled in later English-language reviews. (aljazeera.com) The second term has intensified these fears: analysts in Seoul describe the situation as “double uncertainty” — domestic political turbulence after the emergency powers crisis and the simultaneous return to Washington of a leader who could “take” factories, jobs and even the foundations of the alliance. One Korean commentary quotes Trump saying that upon returning to the White House he would “bring back” factories and jobs from countries like South Korea to the US, triggering a “mass exodus” of production — that is exactly how it is framed in the discussion. (reddit.com) For Korean industry this is not just a threat: it is a risk of weakening a growth model built for decades on exports to America.

In France, the image of Trump is more a symbol of political radicalization and American domestic polarization, increasingly seen as a factor of external instability. In a recent French article about the Israel‑US war and the “political stakes” in America, the author writes about how the Middle Eastern agenda is intertwined with electoral calculations in Washington and stresses that any White House move is now read through the prism of Trump’s efforts to solidify his base. (nouvelles-du-monde.com) For the French public, Trump’s America is not only a risk for the Middle East but also a mirror of European right‑wing populism: many columnists compare MAGA rhetoric with nationalist‑populist discourses in France, asking whether Europe might repeat the American scenario.

Chinese voices, by contrast, use Trump’s return as an illustration of a “long crisis of American democracy” and Washington’s “unpredictability.” In academic and semi-academic texts on US foreign policy they emphasize that the change of administrations — from Biden to Trump‑2 — has not altered the course of containing China, but has made it more chaotic: from trade pressure to harsh statements about Chinese port projects and maritime routes. (cicir.ac.cn) At the popular level in the Chinese media environment accounts of Trump’s “irresponsible” statements, whether about China, Iran or NATO allies, are presented as proof that the world must prepare for “an America that behaves like a large but emotional power.”

A fourth, less visible but telling storyline is how the US figures in Chinese debate about war and peace. One recent Chinese publication offers an ironic dialogue: “Foreign journalist: ‘There will be no war in China because Chinese people love peace.’” (sina.cn) Against this backdrop scenarios are analyzed in which US sanctions, energy shocks in the Middle East and the conflict around Ukraine intersect, creating a triple challenge for China. In a piece comparing measures to combat “bubbles” in the US and China the author stresses that Fed and White House decisions resonate worldwide — from oil prices to confidence in the dollar — and Beijing seeks to build a more “resilient” model, including by reducing dependence on American financial cycles. (sina.cn)

Finally, a number of Chinese and international pieces remind readers that US foreign policy in 2026 is not only about the Middle East but also Latin America. The scandalous story of a US military strike on Venezuela, which provoked international resonance and a sharp reaction from the UN Secretary‑General, is used in the Chinese and broader non‑Western discourse as an example of Washington’s “unilateral use of force.” An Ipsos poll showing American societal division over the strike is only the background for a much more important point: many in the global audience believe US external actions increasingly undermine trust in international norms. (zh.wikipedia.org) For some Chinese and French commentators this prompts the question of whether America is hastening a shift toward a more plural world order in which its decisions will increasingly meet not only criticism but active resistance.

Across all these conversations — from Seoul think tanks to Paris economic blogs and Beijing analytical journals — there is a common thread: the US remains a central actor, but is no longer perceived as a source of predictability. For South Korea Washington is simultaneously a security guarantor and a potential destroyer of its export model. For France it is a necessary ally whose military decisions and monetary policy can at any moment topple European markets. For China it is the main competitor and, at the same time, the largest client and provider of technologies, with which it is impossible either to divorce or to reconcile. Thus discussions about America in Seoul, Paris and Beijing increasingly resemble not commentary on the “outside world” but attempts to make sense of their own futures: how prepared is each country to live in a world where the US remains powerful but is increasingly unmanageable even for itself?

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Washington Under Fire of Expectations: How Ukraine, India and Israel See the Same Thing...

In early March 2026, conversations about the United States in Kyiv, New Delhi and Jerusalem unexpectedly converge on one point — the White House of Donald Trump, who is simultaneously conducting peace negotiations over Ukraine and leading a war against Iran. But behind this outward similarity lie three completely different perspectives: for Ukraine the US is an arbiter and security guarantor whose support is becoming increasingly conditional; for India it is a cynical but indispensable architect of energy and technology flows; for Israel it is the main military partner and simultaneously a domestic factor in its own politics.

The central theme shaping the agenda in all three countries is the American‑Israeli‑Iranian war, which began on 28 February 2026 with massive strikes by the US and Israel on targets in Iran and the assassination of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. This is not just another Middle Eastern flare‑up: for Kyiv it is a risk of losing attention to Ukraine, for India it is a shock to oil markets and a complex test of balance between Washington, Moscow and Tehran, for Israel it is an existential conflict in which America is not present merely as an “ally” but as a co‑author of strategy. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The military campaign against Iran and the fear of an “endless American war” set the tone for much commentary outside the US. The Iraqi channel Al Hadath, analyzing the prospects of the conflict, stresses that Washington and Tel Aviv “are not ready for a war of attrition” and had counted on a quick operation but encountered an opponent prepared for prolonged confrontation. In the retelling by the Russian outlet InoSMI this turns into a warning: if Iran withstands the pressure, it will become a serious test not only for Trump but for the American foreign‑policy model itself, which is used to short interventions and clear end dates for operations. (inosmi.ru)

Against the backdrop of this war, the Ukrainian debate about the US looks at once anxious and pragmatic. In a column for Ukrainska Pravda, political scientist Andreas Umland, working in the Kyiv office of the European Policy Institute, spells out the main fear directly: Trump’s return, the reduction of military aid in 2025 and the current US focus on Iran “have already substantially reduced American influence” on the course of the Russo‑Ukrainian war. He warns that Washington is increasingly signaling to Kyiv: the West is ready for peace, but not for fighting until Ukraine’s victory, and there is growing temptation in the Trump administration to extract a “partial capitulation” from Kyiv in exchange for a quick deal with Moscow. (pravda.com.ua)

This assessment weaves into a broader Ukrainian conversation about what the US now demands of Kyiv. Ukrainian media extensively quote Trump’s words that he wants to end the war “within a month” and views negotiations with Russia as a “very high priority.” In the retelling by the Dialog.UA portal, Trump’s phone call to Zelensky on 25 February appears as an ultimatum — Washington is not only pushing a ceasefire according to an American plan but also making clear that the White House’s patience is limited. (dialog.ua)

Hence the painful linkage for the Ukrainian audience: the US as guarantor and the US as a source of pressure. In a Deutsche Welle piece, Trump simultaneously talks about the US having “almost limitless stocks of weapons” and contemptuously mentions that “most of this weaponry Biden foolishly gave away to Ukraine for free.” This phrase is widely cited in Russian‑ and Ukrainian‑language segments because it exposes hidden irritation: aid to Kyiv for the current administration is not an expression of strategic solidarity but a predecessor’s mistake that needs to be politically rectified. (amp.dw.com)

In Ukrainian debates particular irritation is also caused by how the US‑Israeli war against Iran interferes with the timetable for peace talks on Ukraine. After the strikes on Iran, Kyiv announced the postponement of a new round of talks with the US and Russia, which gives Moscow grounds to accuse Ukraine and Washington of sabotaging the dialogue. Russian outlets like Fontanka pick up and mirror Trump’s position: the US president is allegedly unhappy with “Zelensky’s stubbornness” and warns that Kyiv “is rapidly losing bargaining positions.” For some Ukrainian commentators this is a painful reminder that Washington sees the war not only as a matter of principle but as a space for a deal in which Ukraine is only one element. (fontanka.ru)

The Indian discussion about the US these days is organized differently: it is directly tied to oil and sanctions. The American‑Israeli strikes on Iran disrupted the Gulf’s usual energy flows, caused transport interruptions and another spike in prices. Against this background, a 30‑day “sanctions corridor” that Washington granted India for the purchase of stranded Russian oil became an important topic. An Euronews piece emphasizes that the US, on one hand, asks New Delhi to help “soften the blow” to the global market and, on the other, is effectively nudging India toward a long‑term reorientation of import flows in favor of American supplies. (ru.euronews.com)

Indian analysts, judging by retellings and commentary, see in this a typically American “double‑speak”: Washington publicly talks about a “partnership with the world’s largest democracy,” but in practice uses the Iran war and sanction pressure on Russia to lock in the growing Indian market for itself. At the same time the pragmatic wing of the establishment views this as an opportunity. Mentions of a multi‑year gas contract with American suppliers and expanded military‑technical cooperation are presented not as subordination to the US but as risk hedging: ties with Washington become for India an instrument of balancing against China and insurance against energy shocks. (vedomosti.ru)

Simultaneously some Indian commentators recall very recent episodes when the US demanded that New Delhi cut purchases of Russian oil and threatened secondary sanctions. Harsh statements by Trump toward India and Russia were then interpreted in Kyiv as a sign that Washington was losing leverage over that triangle, and in India as another illustration of American policy’s unpredictability, forcing the country to keep maximal maneuvering between the West, Moscow and regional conflicts. (gazeta.ru)

In Israel the conversation about the US is now almost entirely absorbed by the war with Iran, but overlaying that is a longer line — Trump’s personal relations with Israeli leadership and his transformation into a domestic Israeli factor. Back in 2025 Trump’s speech to the Knesset after the end of the Gaza war was presented as a “historic moment”: the American president, who played a key role in freeing Israeli hostages, spoke from the parliament’s podium while the hall was filled with red caps bearing the inscription “Trump – President of Peace.” Russian Moskovsky Komsomolets, covering this, emphasized that even traditionally critical American media had to admit a diplomatic success. (mk.ru)

This image of the “president of peace” now sharply contrasts with the reality of a large war involving the US and Israel. Israeli and regional analysts, whose assessments are widely relayed by Russian and Middle Eastern platforms, debate whether the current operation in Iran is a logical continuation of a hardline deterrence policy or a dangerous overplay that risks a protracted war and missile strikes on Israeli territory and American bases. Articles such as a geostrategic analysis on Cont.ws insist: US and Israeli command are used to a “shock and awe” campaign with rapid results, but Iranian strikes on American bases and on Cyprus signal that this war may exceed familiar bounds. (cont.ws)

A particularly sensitive point in the Israeli debate is who is actually setting the operation’s tempo: Washington or Tel Aviv. The Armenian analytical center Arvak, in its study of American policy toward Iran, notes that even before the current war Israeli elites favored a forceful solution, and Trump, however much he emphasizes “America First,” repeatedly turned out to be the one who legitimizes and covers that line. For critics in Israel this confirms an old suspicion: strategic symbiosis with the US gives the country unprecedented military power but at the same time turns it into a co‑producer of American wars, whose consequences Israelis themselves must primarily deal with. (arvak.am)

Interestingly, Ukrainian, Indian and Israeli reactions converge on one point: all three societies see the US not as a monolith but as a field of internal conflicts and political competition that directly shape foreign policy. Ukrainian experts stress that the upcoming 2026 midterm elections push Trump toward looking for “quick wins” — peace on Ukraine and a hard stance on Iran become parts of his domestic campaign. Analysts cited by RBC explicitly link the White House’s desire to shift the Iran conflict into a diplomatic phase with the risk of losing votes over a prolonged war. (amp.rbc.ru)

In Indian discussions another facet of American domestic dynamics comes to the fore — the fight over sanctions and technological restrictions on China. Reports that the Trump administration is discussing limits on shipments of Nvidia chips to Chinese companies are read in New Delhi not simply as a US‑China spat but as part of a struggle for control over the global tech supply chain, in which India seeks to position itself as a “third center of power.” Energy concessions from Washington are a temporary gesture, but a tougher sanctions architecture aimed at China and Russia will be a long‑term contour into which India must fit without losing maneuverability. (ru.euronews.com)

In Israel the key element of the American domestic scene has become Trump himself. His role in the peace agreement with Hamas and the freeing of hostages created in Israeli society a feeling that the current occupant of the White House is not simply an ally but in some sense “our politician,” someone who can speak in terms Israelis understand: strength and security. This image noticeably softens traditional worries about dependence on the US: when an American president acquires the title “president of peace” in Israeli discourse, criticizing his foreign‑policy decisions becomes politically much harder. (mk.ru)

The most paradoxical thing is how, through different prisms — Ukrainian, Indian and Israeli — the same tenet of American policy is refracted: “America First.” In the Ukrainian reading this sounds as a warning: Washington is ready to support, but only up to the point where support begins to interfere with its own calculations. In the Indian reading it is an invitation to bargain: the US is building its order, but one can find a profitable niche in it if autonomy is firmly defended. In the Israeli reading it is almost coincident with national interests: the more selfish America is, the more reliably it bets on an ally that demonstrates resolve and military strength. (ru.wikipedia.org)

These three perspectives matter precisely because they rarely reach English‑language audiences in full. Ukrainian fear of a “quick US deal” with Russia and an imposed capitulation; Indian distrust of Washington’s sanction morality while simultaneously using American opportunities; Israeli readiness to be a co‑producer of American force in exchange for security guarantees — all of this together creates a far more complex portrait of international perceptions of the US than the classic binary of “adversaries vs. allies.”

In March 2026 the US is at once waging a war in the Middle East, trying to finish the war in Europe and holding the balance in the Indo‑Pacific. But looking at Washington through the eyes of Kyiv, New Delhi and Jerusalem makes clear: the key question today is not whether America has enough resources, but how countries dependent on those resources and decisions will learn to live with an America that is less and less willing to pay for “common values” and more and more willing to pay only for its own interests.

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